Conversations on a Theme
by EleanorKate
Summary: Multi-Chapter fic. Nonnatus has a wedding to prepare for and two wives seek solace in friendship.
1. Chapter 1

To their side they heard a polite cough inducing a frenzy of hiding of scribbled designs, magazine cuttings and scraps of material from the muddle that covered the dining table as four heads turned in his direction.

"Now stop it, don't be silly" came the lilting voice high up from her place standing on a chair, overseeing the flurry below her. "Such a hare-brained idea that Peter, _or Freddie_, will spill any secrets of my newspaper dress!"

A series of giggles followed as the commotion died down even though Peter felt immediately wary as though he was walking straight into a scene from a certain Scottish play or at best into the depths of a Lioness' den. As Cynthia helped Shelagh down from her chair where she had been measuring her skirt, Chummy immediately forgot the paper pattern in front of her and noticed her small son, awake but resting his head on his father's shoulder.

"Is he alright?" she asked.

"Perfectly fine. He was just after some attention" he said walking across to the table, having not been asleep anyway but hearing his son mithering to himself in his cot at the foot of their bed. "I'm more concerned with the fact that its five past midnight and you are still down here."

"Five past..?" Chummy remarked, scanning the room for the carriage clock on the mantelpiece to find it was closer to ten past.

"Oh, I am sorry. I thought it was earlier than that" she stated, a hand gently caressing the bare leg that was dangling out of the striped turquoise blanket he had wrapped their son in.

"I'm not complaining", he said, addressing her as though there was nobody else in the room, "but you need to rest Camilla."

"I just need to finish this sleeve" she said, gently tapping the paper in front of her as her family stood by her side.

"No Chummy" Shelagh said. "We haven't even set a date yet, so there is no rushing on my dress. Go up".

"We will clear up" Jenny chipped in, already having started on the tidying up mission, carefully folding the patterns and designs that had so far been created between them all.

Chummy pushed away the scissors and looked to the group mouthing a 'thank you' to them before gingerly standing up, still far too protective of her scar and walked away.

As she sat, with the chaos around her slowly finding order, Shelagh perused the final design that they had decided upon. It was a copy from a magazine but after days of deliberations between the Nuns and Nurses when they had all stood in the kitchen, Fred suddenly appeared and announced that the 'one on the left' was far less of a fuss and suited Shelagh best.

Young Fred, who had been yawning repeatedly on his mother's shoulder at being forced to partake in discussions regarding lace and silk, fell asleep in approval too.

Shelagh had found her dress.


	2. Chapter 2

Four days later having been cleared as fit and healthy, it was her first night of call wearing the blue uniform and red cardigan of her colleagues. How _apprehensive_ she felt at this new skin that encompassed her now representing this rather radical change in circumstance.

In the clinics people stared, feeling they knew her, recognising her but not quite sure where they had seen her before. It had disconcerted her and scared her; being seen with new eyes oddly missing the shroud of a habit. For all the torment it had caused her in her decision-making she had not been quite prepared for the reaction of the ladies of Poplar.

Sister Julienne had warned her for the looks, the stares and that feeling of not quite belonging again after being cossetted and protected for so many years. She knew it would be strange and knew it would be difficult and this was her first night, on her own, without the support of her fellow midwives and she was positively terrified. That first day, when she and Jenny ran the afternoon clinic, she had been so pleased that her first patient had been a certain Frederick Peter Noakes and that her friends had expressed their support in every which way possible.

This night though, sleep evaded her and the book she had been trying to read for days was not holding her interest as it slithered to the floor after toppling off the arm of the chair. Cynthia had taken a call, Jenny had taken a call and both had passed the time of day on their way out, but it had been quiet now for hours. She had heard feet along the top corridor and hoped they would find themselves descending the stairs so she could engage whoever it may be in conversation to prevent her mind wandering onto topics of apprehension.

Instead, she stood up, retrieved the book from the floor and decided to take herself to the treatment room in a desperate effort to occupy herself with_ something_ even if it was tidying medication.

She walked past the Chapel and saw Chummy seated in the darkness, her eyes closed, hands clasped on her lap. She could hear snippets of a whispered prayer, one she recognised from her own childhood from the mouth of her own mother:

_How tenderly He loves them,  
the children of this earth.  
How carefully He guides them,  
from the moment of their birth.  
How lovingly He looks upon them,  
sweet and fair,  
May He always keep our little one safe  
within His care._

Shelagh stayed by the door to the Chapel, before slipping quietly inside when she saw Chummy raise her head.

"Do you mind if I sit with you Chummy?" she asked.

"Of course not" she said, quietly tapping the seat beside her.

"Where's Freddie?"

"Snoring away with his Daddy", she replied, looking up towards the ceiling.

"Then why are you up and out of bed?"

"Distinct lack of comfort", she said, touching her hand to her stomach just above where the caesarean scar lay. "Besides, Peter has to be up for work in an hour or so and I do so hate disturbing him. I get so uncomfortable that I think I am worse than Freddie at waking him up".

"Do you want me to have a look at it?"

"No. It's just the incessant itchiness. It's driving me around the proverbial bend."

"Itchiness is good. You are well on the way to healing."

"I know. We just have to deal with what He sends us". How true that was.

"You are not worried about it?" Shelagh asked.

"About how it looks?" she responded. "No. Peter just calls it a battle scar. It just means I have constant reminder of Freddie even when he isn't with me. I'd rather have the scar than be…."

She was about to say 'mourning my son' but she stopped herself as she was so prone to tears these days thinking about the 'what ifs'.

"I prayed for him long before he was born and I was given what I asked. Freddie's healthy and growing like a weed. That's all I need to be concerned about; not marks on my skin".

"He's certainly a robust young man", Shelagh replied. Ill and exhausted herself when she had been brought back to Nonnatus by Dr Turner, the Sisters sent her to bed, not whispering a word of Chummy's labour or the drama that had unfolded that night. Shelagh slept fitfully, entirely undisturbed by the commotion and upset, waking to the wonderful news of a healthy boy and a friend out of danger.

"He is", Chummy replied so pleased that what was occupying her these days was the thoughts of the toothless smile she had been sure she had been offered yesterday morning, although in reality it was probably a burp in waiting.

"He's passive little soul too. I have to say I have never seen a baby with the ability to sleep anywhere and everywhere like he does".

"I wonder if we are being lulled into false sense of security and he will suddenly find his lungs one of these days. Hopefully we will be in the new house by then though and Sister Evangelina can stop dropping hints about noise and untidiness".

Shelagh smiled, remembering when she had been ironing when the Sister had encountered a small mountain of freshly washed napkins hanging in the kitchen and the appalling language for a Nun that she had heard as she ducked her way around them.

"Did Peter find out about a house?" Shelagh asked, having seen the excitement on Chummy's face when he had passed her what look suspiciously like a tenancy agreement yesterday.

"Yes", she replied. "He is going to see it tomorrow. Not officially but it's over the road from the Station so he is going to have a look". She paused. "I might ask what you are doing up and about at this time too. I thought Trixie was on early call first".

"She is. I have to confess sleep was eluding me as well".

"Oh?" Chummy replied noticing Shelagh had started to turn her hands over and over with worry.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course".

"No," Shelagh paused. "No. It's not a question I should be asking."

"Shelagh, ask me. Whatever it is, I shan't mind."

She took a breath, so desperate to ask all of those questions that were still in her mind but until now having nobody to ask.

"Do you regret having a quiet wedding?"

Chummy was taken slightly aback by the question but without hesitation shook her head.

"No, not in the least. Between you and me and these walls, I almost suggested to Peter we ran away. Until I realised the girls would absolutely murder me".

"Ran away?"

"Yes. 'Over the anvil'. In the face of opposition and all that".

"Ah, your mother". Shelagh remembered the whispered conversations, the worry on the girl's faces and the unrelenting support they gave their friend as she found her way. How odd it was that now she was feeling some of that support too.

"Gretna Green is beautiful though. Such countryside!" She paused for a second, to add cheekily "I might have to suggest that to Patrick!"

Chummy looked at her shocked.

"I'm not being serious. I think I would be well and truly snuffed out too if we disappeared and came back married".

"I liked it as it was - no fuss, no bother. One hates all of that; but that is just me. Well, Peter and me. I think your wedding is going to be absolutely marvellous."

"I sometimes wonder whether Patrick would prefer a quiet wedding."

"Why do you think that? He hasn't said anything has he with us just cannoning away with it all has he?"

"No. I think he has been oblivious to it all so far. Timothy was showing me some photographs yesterday of him when he was younger and there was one of Patrick and Helen on their wedding day slipped into the back of album. The wedding looked beautiful - 6 bridesmaids, 2 page boys - Helen just looked..." Shelagh paused to find the right word. "_Ethereal_".

"I think he might be agreeing to it to please me".

"Have you asked him?" Chummy questioned.

"He'll think I am silly and making a fuss over nothing".

"No, he would not" she said firmly. "How many times I was scared to ask Peter things because I thought he would think me silly. I worried so much about whether Peter wanted the full works too. When I plucked up the courage to ask him he was worried that_ I_ would want all the bells and whistles too".

_"Go and see him tomorrow and ask him"._


	3. Chapter 3

_"__Isn't she the…? You know…Her with the Doctor?"_

How many times Shelagh had heard that in the past week she had lost count and she so wished she had the words and courage to respond. Catching Trixie's eye across the small side room in the Parish Hall she smiled ruefully.

"Ignore it" Trixie murmured. She had heard the whispers too and the scandalous, bordering on salacious gossip that was working its way around the community about their local Doctor and a Nun but, unlike her friend, Trixie had not been afraid to respond in kind.

Shelagh closed her ears and turned her attentions to the freshly printed leaflets in front of her ready for the vaccination programme that was due to commence soon, ready to rustle up her team of 'volunteers' to start the deliveries this afternoon.

"I'm going to take these back to Nonnatus now they are all in order" she told Trixie who had started to fold nappies beside her.

"I am so glad I escaped that task!" Trixie commented, eyes wandering over the piles of paper. "Trudging through the streets for hours on end!"

Shelagh smiled. "I've have managed to rope Fred in! Peter and Patrick were my next targets but they were otherwise engaged!"

"Peter could slip a few under his tunic and post them on his beat. Save us the leg work." Trixie responded to a fit of the giggles from them both that induced head turning amongst the waiting mothers. "And Dr Turner has his car, which would be useful too to save us carrying them! You should have worked harder on them!" Trixie teased.

Trixie smiled as she noticed Shelagh go to put on her coat ready to take the box back to Nonnatus.

"We were going to have a game of Monopoly tonight" Trixie said. "Would you like to join us? It can be like the old times!"

Shelagh was touched.

"I would love to".

Later than evening whilst the girls had congregated in Jenny's room Chummy sat cross legged, Freddie nestled in the wealth of her skirt acting as his temporary hammock.

"He looks oddly comfortable" Cynthia remarked taking the small hand that was hovering, relaxed by the side of the Monopoly board. She smiled that even in sleep, small fingers flexed to grab hold of her.

"You know him" she said, straightening his cardigan. "I am sure if he tried it, he could sleep upside down. One really does not want to think that one gave birth to a bat!" Laughter permeated around the room as Jenny handed around bundles of money; her turn to be bank.

"Just think" Trixie ruminated, taking a bundle of notes, "this might be the last chance we have to do this together at Nonnatus"

"Don't say that!" Cynthia responded. "There's no reason why we can't do this in the future, just in a different place".

"Is there any news on where we are all going?" Shelagh asked, taking a sip of Advocaat; something she was gaining a taste for in this new life.

"You don't know?" Jenny asked, not able to keep the surprise out of her voice.

"No. Nobody has said anything".

"I would have thought Sister Julienne might have said something to you" Jenny continued, knowing how close Shelagh and the Sister had been wondering if perhaps there had been secrets that she had been party to.

"No. Not word" she replied, eyes peeking over the edge of her glass as she took another sip.

"We all could be going to ends of the earth then". For Trixie it was oddly melancholy.

"He will find a way for us all Trixie" Shelagh said, squeezing her friend's arm. "I am positive about it".

Before they could question her any further there was there was a knock on the door and it opened a crack.

"Hello?" came a male voice.

"Peter? You're not meant to be here" Chummy said, realising that it sounded almost accusatory.

"I know" he replied, deciding not to step too far into the room. "Too many bodies for the shift. The Inspector mixed the rotas up for next week so I was sent home. Have you eaten yet?"

"No".

"Good because I was thinking of you, me and him in the café at the end of the Dock Road".

Chummy smiled at him. "You see girls - this is what married life is. A dribbling baby and occasional supper out in a café round the corner! The romance of it."

Peter just smiled at her and walked away.

"Do you all mind if I go?"

She heard a round of 'not at all' and quite used now to undertaking most tasks one handed she scooped up the baby and stood up ready to follow him.

"Enjoy yourselves!" she said, seeing Shelagh also stand up.

"Before we start I must go to the bathroom!" she announced before following Chummy out of the room.

Some minutes later Peter, Chummy and Fred left Nonnatus for their dinner destination, Chummy picking up her letters from the hallway table that she had been meaning to collect all day. She found a note tucked inside another envelope.

_"__Can we have another conversation in the chapel when you get back? S"_


	4. Chapter 4

"People will talk you know" Chummy whispered as she slipped into the Chapel, having silently tiptoed out of their bedroom from a sleeping husband and son.

"Let them. I've heard enough of it already" Shelagh responded, harking back to the gossip she had heard at the Clinic. There was no venom in her voice at all, but solely resolution that it was not going to die down any time soon so she had best just get used to it.

"I am sorry for the note" she continued. "I really could not think of a way to speak to you privately".

"Peter did wonder what it was. I just said it was another letter from Mater. A letter from her is guaranteed to make him change the subject!" she smiled, remembering seeing his face twitch at the prospect.

Chummy made herself comfortable in the seat next to her, their places reversed from the night before.

"So did you speak to Dr Turner about what we were talking about?" she asked.

"No, not yet. Clinic was far too busy today, but we may be having supper tomorrow night if he can be free. I'll will find a way to ask him then".

"Good-o" Chummy responded. "I am sure he will not be affronted at you asking you know".

"I do hope so".

"So is there any progress on a date?" Chummy asked, ever so mindful of her task of successful completion of the wedding dress.

"I spoke Father Williams about the Banns. It may be Christmas Eve".

"That's very quick!" Chummy commented then remembered the brevity of her barely 6 week engagement. "But then again who am I to talk?"

"We had considered Easter, but I think a winter wedding might be romantic. I think…."

"Think?"

"Practically speaking, I think arrangements are as in place as they can be or least being worked towards". Chummy could hear the hesitance in her voice.

"But?" she asked.

Shelagh sighed, still full of questions that she was bursting to ask someone, anyone. She had no concept of what she ought to be feeling as an engaged woman.

"What were you thinking when you walked down the aisle?"

Chummy smiled at the memory - her heart racing, holding onto Fred for dear life; being the centre of attention but for every single good reason she could think of this time.

"All I could think about was keeping in time with Fred and the music! The Wedding March? It was nearly the Wedding Wobble!"

Shelagh smiled too. She remembered turning around heart filing with pride at her friend with the sweetest, most tranquil smile on her face. She remembered Fred's speech, acting as Chummy's surrogate father, giving her away in the terribly conspicuous absence of Sir Rex Browne even though not a word had been said as to the location of the 'Father of the Bride'. She also remembered the sneer on Lady Browne's aghast face at her daughter being walked down the aisle by the local handyman with a flat cap tucked under his arm and less than shiny shoes.

"Seriously, Chummy. What were you thinking?"

"When I saw him", she continued, "all I could think about was that when I left that Church I was going to be married. It was as though we were the only ones there; just me and him. I saw David jab Peter in the side to make him turn towards me and that was that. It was as though everything was suddenly right with the world. No other blighter was there".

"I hope Patrick has that same look on his face that Peter had when he turned around and saw you".

"He will, believe me. That dress is positively spiffing, even I do say so myself and you will look beautiful in it. I hope I can do it justice".

"I was thinking as it was Christmas Eve that I might need a shawl or a jacket. I might be a good Scot but I still feel the cold terribly".

"I am sure one can stretch to that. I should collect the buttons from Mr Goldman as well soon".

"It feels awful putting so much on you Chummy. Its my wedding but I seem to be doing so very little towards it" she said, pulling her cardigan around her against the chill that was settling into the Chapel.

"I really do not mind in the least. It's a joy to have something to occupy me. The most important part though is that you turn up!"

Shelagh laughed. "We are busy and I am so very grateful for all the help I am getting. The flowers, the food, my dress...everything. I have no misgiving really, but it is all so different and sudden. I think I am starting to realise just how".

"You made an enormous decision. Far bigger a decision than any one I made" Chummy responded.

"2 months ago I had pledged my life to God. Pledged my soul to Him" she mused, wondering what she would have thought of herself if someone had told her that this was the path that her life would have taken, even those few months ago.

"Now you are pledging your soul and body to someone else". It wasn't a question, more a statement of fact.

"Yes I am".

"It's not too bad you know".

"What isn't?" Shelagh asked quickly, thinking Chummy was hinting towards another question that had been burning at her.

"Being somebody's wife. It really isn't a bad thing at all".

Suddenly the telephone rang behind them.

"I do suppose I had better answer that" Shelagh said, disappointed that their conversation was to be cut short. She gently squeezed Chummy's hand before she stood up.

"Thank you".


	5. Chapter 5

There was something oddly missing as she reached out for him, finding his side of the bed cold. She could hear talking though. It was so low that she could barely make out what was being said. Opening her eyes she realised it was not English either; it was one of those Hindi nursery rhymes that he had clearly picked up from her and it made her smile.

"Peter?" she asked, sitting up, squinting into the early morning light

"Hello" he said. She could see the outline of a white blanket resting on his chest.

"What are you doing over there?"

"We are having a quiet chat. Well I am, he's slept through it".

"You should be asleep too" she said, the clock reading just before 5.

"I can't. I'd just like today to get on its way", he said, nervousness having bubbled in his stomach for hours. It had been soothing to him to sit with the baby, reciting every nursery rhyme - whether English or Hindi - that he could think of trying to settle himself let alone his infant son.

"What time are they letting everyone know?" she asked, knowing that he had been called aside yesterday to arrange a meeting where he would be told the dates for his Sergeant's examinations.

"Noon. I just hope it's after New Year. After we have moved so I don't have to think of studying, doing examinations and us settling in at the same time".

Chummy pushed aside the bedclothes and went to sit next to them laying her head on his shoulder, knees drawn up onto the small settee. Her nose was inches from her son's, gently rubbing his back as she felt his breath on her skin.

"Would you like us to walk up there and we can have lunch together afterwards?" she asked.

"As long you feel up to it" he replied, knowing he had been slightly, well no, he had been over-protective towards her this past month for fear of_ anything_ hurting her. Whilst his wife had freely admitted she remembered little of her son's birth, he remembered every sickening second of that wait.

"I feel up to it. Fresh air is doing wonders for me and he likes his walks. Besides, I promised Shelagh I would step into Mr Goldman's for her for her buttons and I can do that on the way".

She felt him chuckle. "You are quite enjoying this wedding business aren't you?"

"I am. As much as I love him, there are only so many walks we can go on and only so many one sided conversations I can have without boring myself silly. It's nice to feel useful".

"You are 'useful' Camilla. To me and him and Sister Julienne was pleased you volunteered to take up doing the medical records audit next week". Chummy rolled her eyes. The once yearly task that she felt it only fair that she did as the girls were run off their feet.

"Only because nobody else would! But no, it does make me feel as though I am still part of Nonnatus and he's too young to object to sitting with me while I shuffle paper. The dress is occupying me too".

"Do you regret having a quiet wedding, without all of this?" There had been the odd moment, seeing the girls together, the excited flurry over the dress, the shoes, the flowers and the food as to whether his wife might have wanted more than the simple ceremony they had.

"You are the second person to ask me that" she responded. "No, I do not at all. I think it was more than perfect as it was. I will have to find another project after the wedding is over though".

Peter smiled. "If you want to speak to Sister Julienne about working again for a few hours a week when you all move to St Johns Buildings, I won't mind".

"You won't?" she replied, heart skipping for a second at the prospect of working. She loved her husband and her son to the very ends of the earth, but nursing had been her vocation.

"No. Between us we can find a way".

"You are wonderful to me Peter", she said, sliding her hand over his cheek and giving him the gentlest of kisses.

"I want to see you happy. Nothing in the world makes me happier to see you smile". He knew that he was soft with her but right now, with the family by his side that he very nearly lost, he was prepared to excuse her and allow her anything out of sheer gratitude that he was not having to bury her.

"Stop making me cry. You know I am a bally wreck now if you are nice to me". She paused, her brain catching up with her. "Wait a moment, when we move to St Johns?!"

She saw the colour drain from Peter's face as she sat up, the information he had just offered far outweighing the stab of pain she felt at sitting up too quickly than her body was used to these days. He looked at her with a look of a plea on his face, realising his mouth had run away with him.

"Tell me or when you are allowed your privileges again I will see they are rapidly curtailed!"

He couldn't help but snigger but the look on her face told him that perhaps she was not entirely joking.

"When we were called in about the exams this morning, the new Inspector pulled me to one side and mentioned it. He told us to make sure we kept an eye on St John's Buildings on the beat as there was being work done on it before the Nonnatuns moved in. He didn't realise I was married to one".

"St John's Buildings is beautiful. I promise I shan't tell a single soul".

"It wasn't my news to tell Camilla".

"I know", she said settling back down, digesting the news that she knew would set fluttering hearts at rest.

"I was thinking of my privileges though".

"Shameful behaviour and in front of your son!" she remarked, layering mock shock into her voice, placing a hand over Freddie's ear.

He laughed, kissing her on the forehead as she burrowed closer to them both.

"Peter? Could you do me a favour in the next few days?"

This time, two days later, it was Shelagh who found a note in the midst of her letters.

_"__Chapel tonight? I have something for you. C"_


	6. Chapter 6

"Something borrowed" Chummy said, passing her a long red velvet box as they sat side by side in the Chapel that night.

"Oh, my word! Chummy, I can't possibly!" Shelagh exclaimed as she opened the box on her knee, regarding the gold necklace and the single diamond that adorned its middle.

"You can and I insist you do" Chummy replied, pushing the box further onto her lap. "You must".

"Where did it come from?" she asked, running her finger over the chain.

"Pa gave it to me for my 21st and Peter put it in the bank for me just before we got married and it's been there ever since. He was appalled I kept it at Nonnatus."

"I am not surprised! Can I really wear this?" Shelagh was touched. She could never have dreamt of being able to 'borrow' a necklace like this for her wedding.

"Absolutely. I sent him to get it from the bank the other day".

Shelagh held up the necklace in the moonlight that pervaded through the tall chapel windows; the diamond twisting and turning, sparkling in a most enticing manner before her.

"Did you speak to Dr Turner?" Chummy asked.

"I did. He said he will do whatever I want to do" she replied, eyes following the stone as it gazed back at her.

"See?" Chummy said.

"I do feel a wee bit better now" she replied bringing the necklace down to lie in her palms. "You were right. I thought about it too much".

"Good", Chummy replied succinctly. She knew that feeling of working a problem over and over in your mind and the anxiety it fills you with

Chummy smiled as she watched careful hands return the necklace to the case. She felt oddly ambivalent to the diamond in her friend's hands. "I can't say that I suit it, but it's the only piece of jewellery that was mine, new, not some old family heirloom that I had to hand back to Mater with the fear of agonising death if I spoiled it. I suppose that is why I brought it with me, even though I would never have cause to wear it".

"It does rather go marvellously with your engagement ring" she concluded.

"It does", Shelagh smiled flexing her finger.

"You never told us how he proposed" Chummy remarked, having borne witness to the news at her Hospital bedside when the girls visited and gossiped to their hearts content, even though the lady in question had been excluded from visiting for fear of infection.

"In the side room in the parish hall" she replied bluntly.

"By the sink?" came the reply, even though it was intended to be a jest.

"By the sink" Shelagh repeated. "Next to the urine samples".

Both girls giggled furiously as Shelagh's aside. There were more romantic places in the world, Shelagh knew that, hands shaking as she unravelled the parcel that she had been presented with amongst the tea cups, bunsen burners, nappies and test tubes.

"I suppose it was apt; him being a Doctor", Chummy finally spluttered out, ignoring her aching stomach not used to fits of laughter quite yet.

"Where did Peter propose to you?" Shelagh asked after she had calmed down somewhat.

"It depends which proposal one is talking about", she responded, her guard down in her increasingly comfortable friendship with this once Nun.

"Which one?" Shelagh responded, not expecting that answer. "How many were there?!"

"Two" she replied, now reflecting and feeling quite ashamed of her actions towards him. "One on the steps of Nonnatus and one in his parent's front room with the dog as his witness! I certainly could not turn him down in company!"

"We didn't realise" Shelagh replied. "I always thought you would end up married to him though".

"Really?"

"Really. Even though I am Nun" Shelagh paused, realising. "No, _was_ a Nun I could see you marrying him".

"I just panicked the first time and the second time, well I had realised that I was going to lose him unless I stood up to my mother. Are you parents coming for the wedding?" she asked.

"Yes. Mam was…." she struggled to find the word. "_surprised_, but I always knew she had misgivings about my choices years ago anyway, even though she would never hurt me by saying it." How familiar that was. "Dadaidh was pleased too but I knew they would be happy for me regardless".

Chummy smiled, mind wandering for a spell. "How wonderful that must have been; to just tell them that and know they will be happy".

"Before I came to Nonnatus I would sit in that tiny parlour with him and we would just talk for hours on end and he listened to me and understood why I chose my path all those years ago. He never judged me".

"It must be lovely to talk to your Pa like that. Peter is like that with his Dad. Before they moved, Billy and Peter would just sit in their garden and talk for hours and hours on end" she said. "My Pa was just a stern face with a cloud of the most awful cigar smoke forever following him around".

Above their heads they heard a door slam and footsteps - heavy, male - footsteps down the stairs.

Shelagh put her finger to her lips, eyes sparkling, making them both – immediately - feel like conspiring schoolgirls hiding, giggling away desperately trying not to be heard whilst they were up to all things illicit. The footsteps stopped and they looked to each other and then behind themselves, seeing Peter standing at the entrance to the chapel.

"One is sure he has blinking radar" Chummy whispered as Shelagh tried and failed to stifle a laugh.

"You went", he said matter of factly.

"Sorry. I had to give Shelagh the you know what" Chummy told him, as he stepped towards them.

"Oh okay", he replied having been told of his wife's plans when she had asked him to collect the necklace.

"I am so grateful Chummy I really am", Shelagh said, catching Peter's eye.

"Its nothing" Chummy replied, taking his hand that was resting on her shoulder.

"No" Shelagh responded as she stood up before them to take to her bed.

"It is everything".


	7. Chapter 7

For the first time in a long time, the breakfast table was full to bursting.

"So it is Christmas Eve?" Sister Julienne asked.

"Yes. We confirmed it with Father Williams yesterday. Christmas Eve at 12 noon", Shelagh replied not being able to stem the smile that lightened her face.

Sister Julienne smiled too. Before her she was seeing this precious girl begin to blossom as each day passed. She always knew that God could work in the most mysterious, flummoxing and disorientating ways and this was perhaps one of those at this extraordinary change in circumstance. Sister Julienne did not question though, even from that very moment seeing her return with Dr Turner by her side to announce her engagement, there was some element of her that felt that this was right.

"I have to decide on my material but my wedding dress is coming along otherwise splendidly" Shelagh offered smiling across the table to her seamstress.

"We have choices to make though!" Chummy chipped in. "Quickly".

"Are you still getting your material from Mr Goldman?" Jenny asked. "I just adore that place beyond reason. I could spend hours in there; just looking!"

"Isn't he the one with the daughters that keep making our local police officers cups of tea?" Trixie teased, casually spreading jam on her toast.

Peter was about to respond in kind when Sister Monica Joan interrupted.

"And cake! Before she passed Mrs Goldman would make the most exquisite, delicate Victoria sponge. When we delivered her daughters, she always paid in kind".

"So are you going to have something old, new, borrowed and blue?" Jenny asked.

"I have already found my something borrowed", not saying a word about the necklace. It was such a divine thing and she knew that nobody else, bar Peter, knew about it, thinking perhaps her friend might not want to be asked any inopportune questions about its origins.

"Then we need old, new and blue. Any suggestions?" Jenny continued.

"You need a garter" Trixie announced. "That can be new, blue or old!"

"Nurse Franklin," Sister Evangelina started having arrived at the breakfast table at what for Trixie was an inopportune moment. "Do you really think that this is appropriate conversation for this time in the morning and particularly as we have male company?"

Underneath the table Chummy felt Peter's hand tap gently her on the thigh and she prayed and hoped that the girls, or perhaps more so, the Nuns would not see the colour rise in her cheeks. She had rather interesting memories of the rummaging that went on to find the garter that Trixie had persuaded her to wear on her wedding day too.

"Don't mind me" Peter piped up in response to the Sister. "I'm going to work in a few minutes".

"Is that baby wearing striped pyjamas?" Sister Evangelina remarked, seeing Freddie for the first time that morning, lounging in Cynthia's arms.

"I made them for him" Cynthia said, a slight touch of hurt in her voice, as she adjusted the collar of the blue striped material that she had so carefully fashioned for him.

"I have to say he looks the most refined gentleman" Sister Monica Joan announced from her place at the head of the table. "I do think an accompanying dressing gown would go down well in most society".

Several pairs of eyes shot around the room as Sister Evangelina took up her spot opposite Jenny.

"I am sure it would!" Sister Evangelina muttered under her breath.

"On that note", Peter said. "I am going to go to work". He kissed his wife on her cheek and brushed his hand over his son's head as he lay in Cynthia's arms still.

"So what are going to do that is new, old and blue?" Jane asked, taking a sip of tea. Jane had been assigned to organising the reception and was thoroughly enjoying herself.

"My dress will be new" Shelagh replied. "So we can strike that from the list".

"Borrowed is done", Chummy replied. Taking that as her authority to mention their exchange Shelagh told the group that she had borrowed a necklace, although refrained from the bare details.

"I have an idea about blue" she concluded.

"Which you will share?" Sister Julienne asked.

"I have to speak to my father about it first Sister, but I will, be assured" Shelagh replied.

"So old is left" Trixie said, half heartedly disappointing that her suggestion of a garter had been glossed over. Still, thinking to herself, it was hard work trying to persuade Chummy and she could see Shelagh was going to be just as difficult.

"We must all think" Sister Julienne concluded.

That teatime, Shelagh was laying the kitchen table as Chummy was continuing to cut the pattern in the dining room across the way. As she turned with an every increasing number of plates in her hand she saw Peter arrive back, smiling conspiratorially at him as a slice of banana bread disappeared from the table as he walked past.

Shelagh could not see either of them but could hear the conversation that was taking place around the corner after he had greeted her.

"Where's Freddie?"

"Jane has taken him for a walk"

"Are you alright?"

"So so. Just tired. I went to see where the new flat was after you left this morning. Daffy old me didn't realise the walk was quite that far".

"You are not in a fit state yet to be walking all that way".

"I know that now". Shelagh could hear how sheepish Chummy sounded, genuinely regretting thinking that she could manage it, pushing Freddie's Marmet pram - a gift that she had accepted with some trepidation from her sisters in law - to boot.

"Leave the dress for today. We can have tea and when Freddie comes back we can just sit and talk upstairs. Put the radio on. Yes?"

"Yes". Shelagh heard the scissors being placed on the table.

There was a moment of silence before she heard Peter say, with some surprise. "What was that?"

"A kiss on account. To keep until I am feeling better".

There would not be a conversation in the chapel tonight. Her questions could wait, at least for now.


	8. Chapter 8

Shelagh crept downstairs in search of a glass of water. It had been a tiring day only interspersed with a visit to Mr Goldman; her and Jenny almost having to run like wild things to see him, quickly examining bolt after bolt of material before narrowing it down to two.

Tomorrow, when she knew she had the afternoon off, she would go back and make her choice at her leisure; or not as the case could find itself.

Having barely eaten all day either, she collected her glass and a slice of walnut cake from the tin carefully wrapping it in a napkin before she started to go back upstairs. She had also not seen hide nor hair of her chapel companion since breakfast. It had been Peter's day off and they had disappeared in a taxi to see the new flat just before spending the day hidden upstairs. Shelagh herself hardly had more than five minutes with Patrick at the clinic that afternoon either, just enough time to arrange a supper on Friday and for a word or two of reassurance after they had both heard a particularly nosy comment about their status.

She did tonight however find her friend in the Chapel again, eyes closed, breathing the words of a prayer that Shelagh did not recognise this time.

She slipped into the seat beside her and saw Chummy open her eyes.

"Cake?" she whispered unfolding the napkin.

"Delightful!" Chummy replied quietly. "Just a corner though".

Shelagh broke off a generous 'corner' of cake and passed it over.

"I will miss Mrs B when she leaves" Chummy said. "One of us will have to start cake making!"

"Her husband is so unwell though. I can see why she would want to be at home with him".

Chummy nodded her head, having learnt a little from Peter of the horrific accident that Jack Bridge had been involved in in the docks just three weeks ago.

"I wonder if we will get somebody new when we move to St Johns…" Shelagh paused; panic suddenly coursing through her veins at her mistake. "Oh dear" she finished meekly.

"That secret has already been spilt" Chummy replied with a smile.

"Patrick" Shelagh said, now feeling a little better.

"Peter" Chummy replied also revealing her source.

"Men are the most terrible gossips in the world!" Shelagh sighed taking a small morsel of cake.

"When did you find out?" Chummy asked, brushing away crumbs that had fallen onto her lap.

"A few days ago".

"Me too. It just slipped out the poor love. I am pleased though".

"Relieved, I would say. Somehow Patrick is involved in purchasing new supplies for us and he thought we knew. He did say that I could work at the Nursing Home if I wanted to instead, but I really do not think I can leave everyone, especially as everyone has been so good to me."

"I have to say I would agree. I think I would choose here if I was being pushed".

"So how did the visit to the new flat go?" Shelagh asked popping another piece of cake into her mouth.

"It's wonderful. Just the most perfect amount of space, a spare bedroom and a lovely new communal garden at the back so Freddie can run around. We are moving in 2 days after Christmas".

"We will be in Wales on honeymoon then. I shan't be here to see you off" she said, disappointment clear in her voice.

"We are hardly going to the ends of the earth. No more sojourns off to the Missions now with Freddie here so we will all be here when you get back".

"It's hard to believe that this time next year all of this will be replaced by flats" Shelagh said, eyes wandering around the room imagining the history that this room could tell her, how many feet had walked these corridors. "This chapel will be nothing".

"I know", Chummy replied, sad that the place that her son was christening would be no longer. "It must be so hard for the Sisters. At least with us we have not been here long enough to be truly attached".

"Sister Monica Joan was saying that she has been living here for nearly 45 years!"

"45? Gosh, I did not realise that! It must be heartbreaking".

Both girls were commuted to silence as they pondered the day that these walls would be rubble.

"We have had such interesting conversations Chummy. I can trust you not to tease me", Shelagh announced suddenly, her shoulders tightening.

It was an odd statement, but Chummy let her continue.

"Can I ask you something personal?"

"Of course".

"I have no-one else to ask. I can hardly ask any of the Sisters!" She knew she had skirted around the actual question and she hoped that Chummy would know what she meant. "I am worried what will happen when I do get married. That day, that night".

"It would be quite odd to ask a Nun about things like that! Rather unorthodox that someone would want to come to me about things like that too".

"You're a married woman, Chummy. That band of gold means you know more about men than us maidens!"

"One man" she joked, even if she did think he was one of the finer of the species, "and it isn't gold for that".

"Is it frightening?"

"At the time, yes and no. Reflecting now, certainly no" she said truthfully. "I believed he loved me and I knew he wouldn't hurt me deliberately, so I just had to trust him".

"But?"

"I won't pretend it didn't hurt, but for feeling so close to him, feeling like somebody finally loved me, none of that mattered. I know its all meant to be a sufferance for women – something we are meant to endure for the sake of a happy husband, but, well, I think it's far from that".

"Really? All we hear in the clinics is wives moaning about their husbands".

"I think they just like to be in competition with each other. I have the most beautiful little boy out of it and after all l this time I think, no I know, that I won't break him or break what Peter and I have. After, I realised I had been silly to be worried and I wasn't scared of my wedding night after that". Chummy realised what she had confessed to.

"It was noted you married in blue. We just presumed it was you pushing against your mother".

"Yes well, it was in a way. He loves you, that's all you will need to know. Neither Dr Turner or Peter have a disrespectful bone in their bodies, so please don't be scared as there is really no need. You cannot live your life with 'what ifs' or 'if only' ".

Shelagh nodded in acceptance. For now she would take her word for it. Underneath it all, she and Chummy were quite alike, lost souls until Peter and Patrick walked into their lives.

"and he has been married before too and you know he has treated you with nothing but respect so far. That must count for something".

"I know". Shelagh thought that perhaps she should not be speaking about him in such an intimate manner. She had thought they had talked enough for her to be reassured, offloaded her questions on to Chummy as much as she could, but as the clock ticked away the thought of being Dr Turner's second wife was starting to become more daunting as the day approached.


	9. Chapter 9

"Coo-eee! Young man!"

"Young man, please!" Sister Monica Joan called out from the length of the corridor.

The sound of her voice halted Timothy in his tracks. He had not been running; instead he had been walking quite respectfully to find Akela parcel in one hand from Mr Goldman that he knew was some extremely special lace and he was under particular orders to ensure it was delivered to her hand directly.

He turned to see the Sister waving another parcel at him.

"For your mother" she said, handing him the small box that bore a Scottish post mark. "I met with the postman some 10 minutes ago, but unfortunately I cannot find your mother anywhere".

Timothy's mind went blank for a moment until he realised she was talking about Shelagh. Yes - for his mother. Well, nearly his mother.

"I suggest you deliver it personally" she said, tapping him on the head in an affectionate manner. "It looks so very important".

She handed him the parcel which he studied very carefully. Adorning it was a perfectly legible postmark where he knew Shelagh's father and stepmother lived and the word "fragile" written in red was obvious.

"I think I am going to be a postman when I grow up" he muttered, when he was sure that the Sister was not in earshot. He knew where Shelagh was so he started on his way to the garden into a rare period of winter sun.

He rounded the corner leading to the large doors into the quadrant seeing Sister Julienne, Sister Evangelina and Cynthia at various points in the garden engaged in picking up the burnt Autumn leaves that littered the garden.

"Shelagh?" he said quietly having passed the pigsty to find her in the corner, kneeling next to an old piece of carpet that would form the bottom of the compost bin.

"Hello Timothy" she smiled.

"Akela asked me to collect a parcel for her as Constable Noakes has had to work and bring it back here and Dad is in work again too. Akela said I could help her with Fred. Can I ask Sister Julienne if she minds me staying here today?" The words came out in a bundle as though Timothy had seconds to impart his messages.

"Homework?" she said, remembering a conversation that she had had with Patrick just an afternoon ago where he had raised issue and worry that he had simply not had time to sit with his son this last week to help him.

"Homework" he paused with a look of barely disguised disgust on his face, having left the bundle of schoolbooks with Akela for safekeeping, "and I don't like staying in the house on my own".

"Well if you need any help we are all here", seeing the parcel in his hands, but perhaps more importantly recognising her father's neat script.

"Yes. Thank you", he replied. "Akela said that she would get me some orange juice and I can sit with her and work if Sister Julienne allows it. For company she said".

Shelagh watched him walk across the garden to the Sister, seeing her nod her head and smile at the boy, a gentle hand laid on his shoulder and she smiled to herself, thinking that perhaps she would like a son one day who was like him.

She looked down to the parcel in her hands and smiled to herself at what she knew lay carefully encased in that box.

She tucked it in her pocket and reminded herself that she too must sit with 'Akela' soon once again.

Another note was needed.


	10. Chapter 10

**With thanks to Lisbet for inspiration :)**

"We have some company and he is not in the sunniest of dispositions", Chummy said walking into the Chapel again, this time receiving her note from Peter, tucked in between a letter from her sister in law and one from Peter's mother to him. He had brought it up to her after picking up his own post and thankfully he knew of his wife's midnight trips to the Chapel so she did not face any questions.

Shelagh turned to see her, Freddie in her arms wrapped in a pale lemon blanket.

"Is he sickening for something?" she asked as her friend stepped quietly into the Chapel.

"I thought he may be" she said sitting down, "but his temperature is fine and he just seems to be permanently hungry these past few days and outgrowing everything I put near him. I've had to let down the hems on Cynthia's pyjamas this morning".

"Look at them!" she said, running her finger around the sleeve that had been clearly freshly let down. "Growth spurt I presume and it is right on time".

"He looks like he will take after you".

"6 foot 2 on a boy is beyond fine", Chummy sighed.

"Could I hold him?"

"Of course", she replied, gently handing him over.

"Hello young man" she whispered as Chummy looked on, never thinking that the simple act of her son's existence could make her smile with such inexorable ease.

Shelagh was furnished with his most appealing look; pale blue eyes examining her as she kissed the palm of his hand. It induced a gummy, but drowsy, smile.

"Well if that's all it takes to make him smile, I will have to bring him down with me all the time".

"He gets more and more like Peter every day", Shelagh mused, although the darkening chestnut hair before her was clearly from his mother.

"I know. It is not every day one can say that you were so little involved in your own child's looks. Such an absolute, absolute lazy bones though" she continued, smiling as she leant close, running her finger down his cheek as her voice softened. "He was such an active little soul before he was born, but you wouldn't think it at all now. He so much prefers his blankets".

Shelagh felt Freddie stretch his increasingly long limbs before burrowing further into her arms liberating, for a 7 week old baby, an enormous sigh.

"Well that's him off!" Chummy said. "A stretch and a sigh. Habits already!"

"Really?"

"A full stretch before he sleeps. It's one of his more predictable acts", she replied, seeing eyes slowly drifting closed.

"I know I have been full of questions lately", Shelagh said wistfully, caressing tiny fingers. She had delivered many a baby in her years but never to sit with a child of one, well two, of her friends every day seeing each miniscule change in the youngster as each day went by. It was something quite wonderful.

"But there is another one?" Chummy asked, the tone of her voice in almost encouragement for her to ask.

A frown crossed Shelagh's face; knowing what she was about to say might have annoyed anyone but Chummy.

"Did you want him? I mean _before _you fell".

Chummy took a breath and as much as it shamed her, it was a question that required thought. She had had many a conversation with Peter about her own perceived inadequacies that she may face as a mother long before the baby had even been born. She knew, God willing, her falling would be a natural consequence of married life but it still didn't fill her with anything but doubt when she had realised, lazing in the bath that night shortly after their arrival in Sierra Leone, that she must be pregnant. He had told her they day he proposed to her, _the second time he proposed to her,_ that he wanted her to be the mother of his children and she had blanched when he said it. He clearly had faith even though there had been many a time when she had wondered why.

"He made me want a family, even though I thought my time had passed. It was quite the shock I fell so quickly".

"You are only 33 Chummy, hardly a geriatric".

"I know, but most of the women around here have had several by now and two of my sisters in law had had 4 by the time they were my age. I thought time might have been my undoing", she replied. As much as she had worried about her capacity to be a mother; she had perhaps worried more about the possibility of her inability to give him the family he wanted and disappointing him. She could always learn to be a mother or at least be some semblance of one, but not even having that chance might just have broken her heart at failing him.

"I am not very far behind you, you know", Shelagh said.

"I would still have another tomorrow though", Chummy replied.

"Even with everything that happened?"

"Even with. One knows how lucky we were and next time, it could happen again, but no, even with everything I still would".

"So much has happened recently that I have barely thought about a family". There had been so many changes in her life these recent months, the decisions she made, so the prospect of her own family had been the last thing that had been on her mind. "Timothy is such a caring boy and I know he is lonely when Patrick works".

"He has already offered to babysit Fred if we need him to".

"Really? He did say you were letting him help".

"He is a good little entertainer. Timothy just sat there with him all afternoon and played with him. Tired them both right out I think".

"But he did his homework?" Shelagh asked, surprised by her own question that had flowed easily, suddenly more concerned with the boy's schoolbooks rather than his value as Freddie's playmate.

"Every word. One hasn't attempted verbal reasoning in years but have to say that it was somewhat enjoyable!" she paused. "Shelagh, he already thinks you are his mother anyway, so I would not worry your head about it".

"How did you know that?"

"Peter always takes Freddie out for a walk before tea if he is on nights. He met Timothy on his way back from school yesterday and they had quite the man to man talk by all accounts".

"He said that?"

Chummy nodded her head.

"I do worry if he thinks Patrick is trying to replace her", she replied, harking back to her own feelings as a child when her own father remarried. "He would never say a word about it, but I do think about all of these things".

"Not from the way Peter was talking about it. Timothy was positively enthusiastic about the wedding".

"Really? When Mam married Diagdah, I am afraid to admit I was rather horrid to her. I thought she would replace Mamma, but she was so lovely and patient with me; never pretended to be my mother. That is what my blue is going to be. Daidah kept a hair pin of that belonged to my birth mother. It is Sapphire and I want to hide it in my hair so she is there with me. In spirit".

She took the pin out of her pocket and handed it to Chummy.

"My secret. Well, our secret" she replied, not wanting to share the pin's origins with the world and its wife.

"So that was what your parcel was for this morning? You caused quite a stir", she replied, examining the delicate pin, a circle of bright blue sapphires adorning the metal at one end.

"I know. I should perhaps have been a little more discreet with it at lunchtime, rather than just leave it on the kitchen table, even though it was only whilst I answered the telephone!"

"I think it was the word 'fragile' that was the straw that broke the whatsit's back. I have never seen such a fuss over a parcel!"

Shelagh smiled, remembering the barrage of questions and sauntering out of the kitchen with a smile, not answering a single one. Even though it was not the most glamourous of accessories, it was her only connection to her mother that would be with her on that day and she needed to know she was there as she embarked on this new stage in her life.

"Keep it safe", Chummy replied, handing it back to her. "Not a single word will pass these lips".

Shelagh smiled as she placed it carefully back in her cardigan pocket. In her arms, Freddie began to wriggle, his face starting to crease into unhappiness, as his mother quickly glanced at her watch.

"One hour on the dot", she replied. "I will be so very glad when this growth spurt stops. Feeding him every hour is doing me no good whatsoever".

"Could he not have a bottle?"

"He does, once in a while. Peter insisted so I could have some rest, but one really does not have the wherewithal to be bothered making it up in the middle of the night!" she replied with a smile.

Chummy reach her arms out for her son, ready to take up him upstairs to the comfort of her bed and the company of her husband.

"We do need to spend an hour soon as the creation is nearly finished".

"It is?"

"Perhaps tomorrow evening? His Lordship's needs must now, I am afraid".

"Of course".

Shelagh smiled as Chummy walked away. Suddenly excitement hit her again. It was such a disturbing see-saw of emotions she had been feeling recently. The fear of being 'a wife', the prospect of being 'a mother' even to Timothy, and the pieces of her wedding dress that she had seen scattered around Nonnatus that were suddenly forming her dress. Once that dress was completed, her fittings having been a focus as the girls fussed around her, but her dress, it seemed was almost complete.

Then it would be real.


	11. Chapter 11

Trixie and Shelagh watched the two people seated barely a few yards away from them. They could not, however, hear the words being exchanged between Peter and Chummy as he sat beside her in the dining room. Trixie had been sure they were sharing a chair until Shelagh had scolded her for being too familiar.

"So you think that you and Dr Turner will be like that then?" she asked from her position leaning against the kitchen top.

"Like what?" Shelagh replied, ready to see a devilish look on Trixie's face. In reality though, her face was quiet serious.

"Close. Like there is nobody else in the world".

"I hope so". Wondering what 'they' would be like had made Shelagh curious, having watched the simple interactions between husband and wife for some moments. She had to admit that they knew little about each other, but were learning as each day grew but there was still so many 'unknowns'. Would they be like that when they were married? Just that at ease with each other to share a whispered conversation and a smile and that was all that was needed? A kiss and a look where words were not necessary even?

"I'd like that one day", Trixie said taking a sip of tea.

Shelagh was ready to smile, so used to the flirtatious Trixie with a new date from week to week. Her face however was unmoving.

"It must be comforting to be tethered to someone like that; to be moored" she continued.

"He does love her" Shelagh said, feeling that it was all she could offer, these feelings being so alien. "You can see that miles away. I have to say I am going to miss them when they move".

Trixie nodded. "I know Sister Evangelina moans about the mess Freddie seems to bring with him, but he gave me the biggest smile yesterday. I could rinse a thousand napkins for that smile".

Shelagh turned to her. "You are turning soft".

"Maybe I am", Trixie replied thoughtfully as she saw her friend receive a kiss on the cheek before Peter stood up, exchanging a few inaudible words that made her smile before he walked away in somewhat of a hurry.

Both Trixie and Shelagh could see the various parts of her wedding dress laid out on the table and curiosity got the better of both of them, a cup of tea for Chummy in Shelagh's hand.

"Where's he off to?" Trixie asked, never one to shy away from a question.

"Picking up his wedding suit", Chummy replied, turning over a sleeve. "Dr Turner asked him to be an usher with….Oh what was his name? His friend from university?"

"Lawrence. Laurie" Shelagh said, pushing the cup towards her friend trying to avoid any wayward drips that could have marred the material.

"That's him", Chummy replied.

"The wedding suit hey?" Trixie remarked. "Might be a clue to what our beloved Doctor is wearing don't you think?"

"No" Chummy replied, smiling. "Peter has been sworn to secrecy so he may not even show me…" She shrugged her shoulders, indicating that even if she knew, she would not be telling.

"Surely you can use your wiles on your husband to at least have a little look?" Trixie asked.

"My wiles have currently gone Absent Without Leave and they haven't left a note as to when they may be back!" It was only half a joke.

"I will wait to see on the day" Shelagh said resolutely. "My dress is a secret so why shouldn't his suit?"

"I don't believe you" Trixie added sharing a smile with the group, raising an eye brow at Shealgh.

"Well", she said, looking as innocently skywards as she could. "If Peter is freely offering any details….!" she added cheekily.

All of a sudden before anybody could reply they heard the front door bang open.

"Camilla?!"

The three nurses looked at each at the urgency of the request for his wife's attention. They all stood up and rushed into the hallway.

"Peter?! What's going on?" Chummy asked, very alarmed at his sudden reappearance, thinking immediate thoughts that he had come to some dreadful harm.

In front of them, they found Peter, and Timothy, with a bloodied handkerchief pressed to his chin by the Police Officer.

"What happened?!" Trixie asked, distressed at seeing the young boy who was clearly desperately trying to hold back tears of shock.

"Practically over the handlebars on his bicycle" Peter replied, having seen the boy cycling at some speed catching a wheel in the gutter and tumbling forwards to the pavement.

"Let me see" Shelagh said, as the other two nurses stepped back, knowing Shelagh's position now in Timothy's life and respecting that as she walked him into the kitchen, one hand replacing Peter's. She sat him on a chair and gently peeled off the handkerchief, seeing a dirty looking cut that had clearly been bleeding profusely as the boy winced.

"Say thank you to Constable Noakes for bringing you back" she said, trying to keep any semblance of a scold from her voice.

"Thank you" Timothy replied as pair of forlorn eyes looked up at him before he departed again; squeezing his wife's hand as he passed.

"I will clean him up Chummy. You carry on. Trixie could you fetch me …?" she paused realising Trixie had already left to collect all the necessary supplies for perhaps a stitch or two.

"Now young man" she addressed him, hearing Chummy walk back to the dining room. "What will your Dad say about this?"


	12. Chapter 12

Shelagh ran her hand contemplatively over the dress adorning a tailor's dummy that Chummy had somehow procured. Gently, she touched the 'v' neck and the shawl-like adornment that they had compromised on when between them all they had realised that a jacket would be too heavy, even in a Poplar winter. It had been Jane who had been inspired and Shelagh ran the pad of her thumb over the delicate beaded lace that would protect her shoulders and was truly grateful for Jane's sudden inspiration.

She was in her own world as she walked around the dummy, stepping carefully over the small train. The dress, almost complete; only missing the final touch of the ivory buttons that would cascade down her back, stood before her as she tipped her head to one side letting her mind wander. Now, seeing it, she could imagine herself in it; see how her hair would be; imagine walking her shoulders high down the aisle towards him.

There had been many a minute when she had had these feelings before, but with the finality of only buttons to add the sometimes overwhelming anxiety she had been experiencing was starting to wane into excitement.

There had been many a conversation with Patrick too, many a moment she saw interaction between her seamstress and her husband, and by that felt reassured. When Patrick had hold of her hand and looked straight into her eyes and promised her that if she wanted time, he would give her time, she had refused.

"One should really have covered that up in a more competent fashion!" she heard behind her as she saw Chummy standing in the doorway.

"Where did the dummy come from?" she asked.

"Fred" she paused. "Fred Senior. True origins unknown!"

Shelagh smiled and chose not to ask anything more, knowing of their handyman's somewhat illicit schemes in the not too distant past.

"Peter is being obscene so I came down to make tea", she carried on turning into to the kitchen.

"Sorry?" Shelagh replied, turning around from the dress, admittedly quite shocked about what had tumbled out.

"Obscene Publications Act" she replied. "Tomorrow it's the Allotments Act! Do you want a cup?"

"Yes please" Chummy heard with footsteps following her.

"If I hear one more word though about 'tendency to deprave and corrupt' and whether my mind is open to immoral influences my brain will scatter into tiny pieces!"

Shelagh smiled as she sat down.

"This is a change from the Chapel" Chummy commented, looking around her.

"We have built a routine, haven't we?"

Chummy smiled. "How's Timothy's chin?"

"Looked a lot worse than it actually was, poor boy. My heart went when I saw Peter bring him in though".

"Fred's going to do things like that one day. I think all my nursing training will go straight out of the proverbial window if he suddenly arrived in that state".

"No it won't, you will know exactly what to do. As his mother and as a nurse".

Chummy nodded, taking a sip of scorching hot tea, realising Shelagh was probably right. One day Fred would come home with scratched knees, cut chins and covered in mud and she would let him do it time and time again. She would let him have his accidents, gain his scars and never scold him; he could have a bicycle and have a swing in the garden and he could be a child just as he was meant to be. History for Frederick Peter Noakes would not be a repeat of his mothers; not worrying who he would upset if he had an opinion.

"So did you see the suit?" Shelagh asked.

"I thought you didn't want to know!"

"I don't" Shelagh replied, but not being entirely convincing.

"Well I haven't, not yet. Peter thinks it needs some alterations so that will be on my list too, so I will see it at some point".

"Well don't tell me about it. I was only joking today" Shelagh responded genuinely.

"Consider these lips sealed", Chummy replied touching the pads of her fingers to her mouth.

"What were you and Trixie talking about today? I saw you both in the kitchen".

"We weren't spying, " Shelagh said trying not to sound particularly defensive.

"I know you weren't but I did see you both looking rather contemplative".

"Trixie was, well, we were wondering what its like to be so very close to someone; to not have to say a word and you know what they are thinking".

"Practise", she joked.

"You two don't even argue". That had been one thing that Shelagh had noticed ever since they came back from Sierra Leone as man and wife under the roof of Nonnatus. She had never heard a single raised voice between them.

"The odd crossed word maybe, but no, I can't say we do".

"I suppose you don't have to argue to make your point", Shelagh mused. "But, oh I don't know. I suppose I just wonder what life will bring now".

"Time is all you need. Now when I think of how we are, we seem like two different people from when I first met him. I've changed; he's changed and I really could not and would not have it any other way. The thing is nobody really knows. Two years ago did I think I would have a husband and a child? No. I thought I would stay here for 6 months and then be gone".

"Honestly?"

"Yes. Go to Sierra Leone if I could and stay there. Thinking now though, that would mean Freddie wouldn't have been born and to think of that, well, it frankly breaks my heart".

"Has your mother seen Freddie yet?"

"No" she replied bluntly, wrapping her dressing gown around her legs.

Chummy did not know whether she was sad that Fred had not, yet, seen his grandparents. Frankly it made no difference to him whatsoever but as much as her relationship with her mother was as remote and as strained as it ever had been, he was still her grandchild.

"Peter's parents look for excuses for visits but mine? Well, she will come for her dresses again just after New Year but who knows? By the time she gets here he will be nearly 3 months old maybe more. She wrote to me a handful of times in Sierra Leone but I really would not have coped being so pregnant and having to deal with her too. I can hear her voice now" she said.

_"__All I can see in that boy's eyes is the Policeman staring back at me!"_

"Is that what she calls him?"

Chummy nodded.

"Oh how awful! Oh I'm sorry".

"No it is awful, but I have my family here. With him and Fred and all of you. One could never go back to that time".

"I was so lucky. Parents who accepted this so sudden change and I know they will accept Patrick and Timothy".

"When are they coming down?"

"Three days before the wedding. I am looking forward to it. It will be the easiest part of this whole business".

Chummy smiled. She was happy for her friend.

"I know I keep saying it, but thank you for listening to me all this time".

Chummy shook her head. "Absolutely no bally need. What happened to us both is quite the same when you think about it"

"Epiphanies" Shelagh whispered.

"To epiphanies", Chummy said, raising her tea cup in a toast.

"Epiphanies" she heard back, with a clink of china against the cup in her hand.


	13. Chapter 13

"One is definitely going to have to take those trousers down", she suddenly announced from her seat on the bed, carefully examining the dark blue silk lining of the clearly expensive waistcoat that had been bought for her husband.

"I do beg your pardon?" he replied from his place by the long mirror balanced as safely as it could be against the wall. She saw his reflection smirking back at her as she looked up.

"The hems Peter Noakes!" she replied, standing up taking the waistcoat with her.

"I know" he replied still smiling at her reflection, stretching an arm out as she walked around him sliding the waistcoat over the accompanying white shirt. "They are a bit short" he continued, tipping his head down to examine his ankles as he did up the buttons.

"I will start them this evening", she replied adjusting the back strap and buckle so it fitted him in much more of a snug manner.

"They can wait surely?" he replied. "The wedding's not for 2 weeks".

"No. We have the final dress fitting tomorrow and then the day after that Jane and I need to go to …" she was interrupted by him turning round feeling his hands on her arms.

"_You_ need to slow down".

She smiled, touched as she always was at his concern for her. "I feel fine", she whispered. "Fred's growth spurt is over and done with for now so he's back to his potty little self and I feel a lot better than yesterday even".

"I just worry about you. Too much too quickly Camilla".

"I know. I am grateful for it you know. I am". She leant forward to kiss him, before taking both of his hands, clasped to her chest, over her heart. "After the wedding has happened and we have moved, I promise I will take it easy".

She saw him purse his lips, not quite believing her. Trouble was he was most probably right and the moment they stepped into the new flat she would find something else to be doing.

"Go on", she said. "Drop!"

Cheekily, he saluted her before setting about taking them off as there was a sharp rap on the door.

"Oh blast it! That's the baby back". Almost 2 hours ago she had left Fred in the capable hands of Shelagh and Cynthia so that she could have a peaceful tea with Peter in the café across the way.

"Camilla!"

"I didn't mean it that way", she said, before whispering, floundering as she went as she realised how awful her comment sounded. "I meant that if that's Shelagh with Fred she shouldn't see you in your suit. Or out of it. Get behind the door!"

"What?"

"Behind the door!" she whispered manhandling him in front of her to behind the door to the room.

He stood back to the wall as he saw her take a calming breath, hand on the door handle. The look on his face was enough to make her laugh but she opened the door, pushing that bursting feeling as far down into her shoes as she could, even though all she could see was him was standing there holding his trousers up.

"Hello" Trixie said as she saw relief wash over Chummy's face seeing her rather than Shelagh.

"One baby, half asleep from his walk, bathed, changed, smelling just adorably, entertained and ready for his Mummy and Daddy". Trixie frowned just as soon as the sentence came out of her mouth. She could see that Chummy was nervous, eyes shooting to the door.

"Chummy are you alright?"

"Yes, sorry" she replied, shaking sense into herself. "I thought you might be Shelagh. Peter is just trying on his wedding suit. I didn't want her to see!"

"Well do you want me to take him for a bit longer?" she asked, staring down at Freddie who was somewhat contendly watching her. "Auntie Beatrix doesn't mind one bit!".

"If you are sure? I could just do with half an hour but if he gets ratty bring him back up", she replied, taking hold of his hand.

"I will"

Peter heard a sing song greeting to him from his space behind the door as his wife closed it. He looked at her, smiling.

"I always wondered how guilty I would feel hiding behind a door with my trousers practically around my ankles".

Chummy let out a short laugh. "Well take them off properly so I can start on those hems!"

He sat beside her on the small sofa as she set about unpicking the stitches.

"Are you going to sit there and watch me do this?" she asked seeing him out of the corner of her eye.

"Yes. I may think about being annoying whilst I am here too", he said, deliberately leaning on her.

"Well you could fetch a cup of tea for us both?"

"You have my trousers and I am wearing the waistcoat that cannot be seen" he replied matter of factly.

"There is a whole wardrobe over there" she laughed. "Go and make us a cup of tea!" she continued leaning across kissing him, knowing that would do the trick.

He thought for a second.

"Very well" he replied with a smile.

"You persuaded me".


	14. Chapter 14

Chummy walked downstairs to find the kitchen devoid of anybody but Shelagh who had her arms full of pillow cases and sheets.

"There's a hand going spare here if you want it?" Chummy said fearing that sooner rather than later her friend would either trip or the seemingly limitless mountain of striped cotton would engulf her entirely.

"If it's not an imposition?" she replied, laying her wares down on the small kitchen table as elegantly as she could manage.

"Not at all", Chummy replied about to take up three pillowcases that had toppled away from the pile.

"We need to iron them for clinic" Shelagh announced and she could almost hear Chummy's heart clatter its way to the tiled floor.

"Utter rapture" she said sarcastically as she began to separate sheets from pillowcases. "I have begun to detest ironing beyond all reason. Police uniform shirts are a blight on my landscape".

"I suppose I will have to get used to it, " Shelagh replied, pulling two irons from the cupboard under the sink. "School shirts will be mine!"

"Police shirts and school shirts. _Together_. One has to wonder what on earth one did to be punished so".

"Oh!" Shelagh remembered suddenly. "I found your scissors - they must have fallen underneath the dining table yesterday".

"Wonderful. Thank you" she replied, taking one of the irons and plugging it into the wall. "Mind you with the dress finished I have little use for them now!"

"I cannot thank you enough you know", she replied yesterday having had her final, final fitting just that morning.

"It was my pleasure. I need to find something else to do now before I go back to work".

"To work? Surely not?" Shelagh was surprised for a moment.

"Only a few hours around Peter's shifts. Not for months yet though". Despite Peter's prompting about St Johns and his willingness not to see her tied to the house now, there was no way on earth that she was leaving the baby for hours on end not whilst they still needed each other so. Even when he went on his walks with Peter or the tours of the garden he enjoyed with Jane, she found her arms ached for him counting down the minutes until he returned.

"Did I see him come in before?" Shelagh asked, taking a sheet and turning to the ironing board.

"He's just having a nap with the baby before tea. Did you say that Dr Turner was going to join us tonight too?"

"Yes. Timothy is with his grandmother so it's the Last Supper, so to speak, before the wedding, then I will not see him for 5 days".

"5?" she replied, knowing that took them to awfully close to the wedding.

"Yes. There is a locum for when we are on honeymoon and he has so much to do before the wedding to make sure all the patients are cared for. You know what he is like" she said with a shrug, knowing how much time Chummy and her fiancee had for each other. "We may catch a moment in clinic but he has so much still to do".

"I know one laments repeatedly about Peter being on nights but at least I know what time he will come home," she replied shaking out another pillowcase.

Shelagh nodded contemplatively. She had not quite yet turned her attention to the day to day; the routine, the hum drum of dinner on the table or mopping the kitchen floor, her concentration so fixed on the wedding and its preparations that after that day it was all somewhat of a blank canvas. She knew the hours he worked if only from Timothy's complaints, complaints though that he would not voice in front of his father.

"How did you adjust?" Shelagh asked. "To having run a house?"

"By not thinking about the entire blasting thing!" she replied, laughing. "I was so used to the way that Mater ran, " she hesitated, realising how wrong the expression was. "_The way the housekeeper ran the house on her orders_ that I did wonder if I would send the place up in flames or forget to dust the fireplace. I mean I know how to work an iron," she said, waving the metal object in the air, "and my suppers haven't given Peter a squiffy tummy so far. I suppose one learns. Besides Peter hardly acts like I expected him to".

"How?" Shelagh asked.

"Oh I just think with the way Pa and Mater were towards each other – are towards each other - the way I was brought up. He's considerate of me and lovely to me that as much as my parents marriage is strong, its not an example of something that I think marriage is meant to be". She wanted to use the word 'loving' but feared a discussion about relations between husband and wife that stemmed beyond cleaning, cooking and far beyond her previously couched implications.

"Peter's Ma always told me he was tidy after being in the Army, but cooking for me too? That was news!"

"Cook?"

"Well..." Chummy replied, perhaps realising she had exaggerated somewhat. "When we were in Sierra Leone for a few weeks all I could keep down was a traditional chicken stew as long as it had cassava leaves in it. Peter made it for me day in and day out for 3 weeks before the sickness stopped as he was so worried the baby and I would waste away into nothing. Trying to make it myself just set me off, but if I sat in the garden away from the smell until it was cooked, I was fine. Told him that was far too much of me to starve for a few weeks though I have to say he has not been near a stove since!"

"Africa is such a distance away. I really cannot think what I would do if I could go somewhere like that. Patrick or no Patrick".

"I know I used to bleat on about the possibility of a chap along the way to my road to Africa, but I never expected to travel with this mythical fellow. Peter could have said 'no', could have refused me and I would have just had to forget about it ever happening. One could hardly have left him behind".

"I could not bear to be in a prison of a marriage. Patrick has already said he bears no grudge if I work and I think Timothy will be more of proficient cook than I ever will be. It was all things I never thought about before, so strange as a married woman you only seem to exist as an extension of your husband", she wondered, folding a freshly ironed sheet.

"He has cared for me so well these past few weeks; he does have to have mention of that. He could so easily have just left Fred to me. All I was used to was my father holding us all at arm's length; only wanting to see us when we were fed, washed, dressed and preferably asleep that to have him walking the corridor with him; waking up in the middle of the night and he's talking to him, telling him about me". Chummy's voice cracked and she felt tears sting at her which Shelagh immediately saw.

"You frightened us all Chummy. I know I was ill but at least the doctors had time with me and it was only my life to be worried about".

She nodded, swiping a tear away with the back of her hand. "I know. One wishes dearly that there were memories of it; if only to understand what's behind the conversations he has with him; why he talks about me to him as though I was not there".

"He knows you are there Chummy" Shelagh replied, desperately trying to reassure her friend. "Timothy talks to his everyone else about his mother but not to Patrick. He does not want to upset him. I fear Peter is the same way. When you were in Hospital we would find him in the middle of the night down here, just sitting. I wonder if he does not want to upset you either. Freddie can't talk back yet; you can and I think Peter just needs someone to listen in silence".

She carried on. "Those first few days it was such the strange atmosphere here. Like we had escaped from the unknown from something that would have scarred the very bricks of Nonnatus. We did not breathe until you came home".

"Neither did I" she said quietly.

"But you did and that delightful little smiler did and we should all be thankful for that".

Chummy nodded. There had been an odd turn in their conversation tonight. For all the questions she had had, for all her nervousness, there was still a wisdom about the soon to be Mrs Turner that Chummy respected. It had comforted her immensely that these wonderful people had cared for Peter when she was in Hospital and as much as she owed God for her life, she owed these people so much more.


	15. Chapter 15

As he opened the door to their room, the cacophony of screams of surprise nearly gave him a heart attack; followed by the genuinely terrified cries of the only other male in the room before he was scooped up into his mother's arms, held tight against her chest.

"Sshhh! Little one, " he heard, the only focus being his wife and son as the rest of the several women in their bedroom rose quickly from their places on the floor and on the settee, looking momentarily guilty. "It's alright, Mummy's here. Sshhh".

As he heard the cries turn into sniffles as he was gently soothed there was also a round of 'Sorry, Peter' as he counted Jane, Trixie, Cynthia, Shelagh and Jenny scattered around the room and the almighty mess that had been created on the floor.

"We were just going over the last plans for the wedding", Jenny said, picking up cushions they had been leaning on. "All the other rooms are freezing and we didn't want to sit there with Fred getting cold".

Freddie, who had been lazing on his parent's bed on his favourite blanket thoroughly absorbing the amount of female attention he had been getting from the several women in the room, had now calmed down enough for Chummy to turn her attention away from him for a moment. Around him he saw the rest of the nurses and midwives hurriedly picking up pens and pencils and pieces of paper, more cushions and teacups.

"We were nearly finished though" Chummy said genuinely although perhaps slightly prematurely as there were still things to discuss, but, when push came to shove, this as their home for what it was and his needs came first. This was particularly true as he had been on a double shift in lieu of additional time off to move house. The only thing he was planning on doing was kissing his wife, cuddling his son and promptly falling asleep until suppertime.

"We'll take everything downstairs", Jane said, rushing to roll up what looked to Peter like a seating plan.

Each of them paraded away and the last one to leave, Trixie, shut the door gently behind her.

He sat down on the bed next to his wife, her holding their son to her shoulder.

"Sorry about that" she said, feeling immediately guilty as his arm slid around them both.

"You didn't need to throw anyone out for my sake" he replied genuinely although still slightly surprised at the sheer volume of people he stumbled upon.

"I did" she replied. "This is our home for now. It's the only privacy we get the three of us".

"That reminds me!" he replied, pretending to forget what was burning in his pocket, but producing a set of keys. He saw her face light up.

"The flat is finished and furnished so can move in on Sunday if we want to".

"Really?"

He nodded smiling. "A front door at last! That is if you want to being so caught up in the wedding".

"I want to" she whispered leaning across to give him a lingering kiss. "As much as I love here, I need to be able to shut my door and not wonder who is going to come bursting like a lunatic through it".

"Like me you mean?"

"This is your door", she replied bluntly.

He smiled and deposited the keys on the bedside table.

"Has he been good today?" he asked, rubbing his thumb over his son's cheek getting a cheery grin in response. He had been quite astounded that boy had seemed to start to recognise his voice and face so readily these days.

"So so. Thoroughly objected to his walk this morning for some reason, but no, he has been full of upside down frowns this afternoon", she replied, placing a kiss on the back of her son's head.

She saw Peter smile.

"Why don't you and he have a nap together? It's my turn to start supper and then we need to start packing everything up tonight with so little time left".

"I can still say we want the 27th you know. I don't want you rushing around and making yourself ill for the sake of a few days". She felt his hand squeeze her shoulder.

"We hardly have the crown jewels to pack up" she replied, looking around herself.

"I know," he replied, "but leave it for tonight. I have to read again".

"So what Act is in tonight?"

"Vagrancy".

"I was hoping for Explosive Substances or at least Forgery!" she remarked, smiling at him, even though he could hear tiredness in her voice. "They are far more interesting than beggars".

"Tomorrow I promise you can blow up anything you like with my utmost support".

She nodded, gently passing over her son who had now recovered from his fright. "I will come and get you when supper is ready" she said, standing up carefully. As much as the scar was now well and truly healed, it still objected to her sitting in one place for any prolonged period of time.

"Oh by the way" said talking hold of her hand to turn her back to him. "I went into St Johns on the beat. The decorators mentioned the painting should be finished just after New Year. Has Sister Julienne not said anything to you all yet?"

"No, nothing", she replied before leaving them to nap quietly.

As she returned to the kitchen, her friends had decamped there with Jane's wonderfully careful seating plan for the reception spread out on the table.

"Dr Turner has so _many_ friends" Trixie said, pencil in hand as they tried to accommodate person by person from the ever increasing guest list for the wedding.

"I know", Shelagh replied. "They are all people from university. I lose track when he mentions another one! So many people's names I will have to remember!"

"We are going to have to over accommodate on the food I think if he carries on!" Jane responded, but hesitating for a moment. "It must be wonderful to know that many people though".

"Not when you are trying to fit them all in the Church Hall!" Trixie responded, scratching out another name, realising she had no room to accommodate Dr Miles _and_ his wife on that particular table.

"Do you want a hand Chummy?" Jenny asked, feeling redundant and a touch guilty that the one person that need to be resting was up and about.

"If you don't mind old girl", she replied.

"Have you heard any more about the new flat?" she asked walking across the room, taking a pile of plates from the cupboard. The rumble of conversation carried on the background as there were more discussions about moving tables and chairs and whether Shelagh though that Patrick's aunt Margaret would object to sitting next to his Great Uncle Francis.

"Yes" she replied. "We aren't moving on the 27th any more".

"Why? What's happened?! " Jenny exclaimed rather loudly catching he attention of everyone else in the kitchen, immediately worried that they had lost the flat.

"Nothing terrible no" Chummy replied, looking around reassuring her friends. "The flat is ready, so we are going on Sunday".

"Sunday?" Cynthia questioned, a touch of anxiety in her voice. "That means we only have 4 more days with us all together" she added sadly.

"Chummy and I are not going far" Shelagh soothed.

"Its all so very unsettling though", Trixie said, leaving behind her task for a moment. "There has been so much change recently".

"Yes, but its been good change surely?" Shelagh responded. "Although its not every month you have an engagement and baby within days of each other".

"But don't know where we are going yet", Jane chipped in. "I'd prefer to know we were at least staying in Poplar even if there is no word on where. Especially when we are only just together again". For Jane to say that it was a lot; an indication that at last, finally, she felt that she had a home.

Chummy and Shelagh exchanged a glance with each other, one that, thankfully was not seen by anyone else in the room. It would be so easy to confess their knowledge of St Johns but perhaps not so easy to escape the wrath of Sister Julienne. They would also have to ensure their respective sources were also not discovered.

"Its all very horrible to think that somebody somewhere knows where we are going, but the secret won't be shared", Jenny replied, not knowing that it already had been.

The room was suddenly quiet as each girl contemplated, only interrupted by a rustle of paper as Trixie half heartedly erased another name from the plan.

"Well we will have less of this abject misery for now!" Chummy announced, being acutely and suddenly _deliberately_ ebullient. "Some of us have supper to prepare for, so shoo away with you all!"

She and Jenny exchanged a consilatory smile as the party moved away again to the sitting room and they began to lay the table.


	16. Chapter 16

"Thank you for supper, Chummy. It was such a change", Shelagh remarked as they rested in the sitting room as the clock approached 9 and as Fred slept in the wicker moses basket beside them.

"My pleasure", she replied, having prepared a homage to her childhood of a mixture of Indian dishes. "Peter likes Kheer and the curries, but", she paused, nodding her head towards her son, "baby has never liked me eating spices. When were in Sierra Leone I made Jollof rice once. It's so spicy and you would not believe the hours he spent kicking me for it. I've only done it once in a while since and I fear Peter and I may be kept awake with a windy baby tonight too".

Shelagh laughed, more than used now to Fred's various, and usually perfectly timed, comments on life.

"I can't imagine you can get many of the ingredients around here"

"No. Fred and I tramped over most of Poplar to get what we could today. Improvisation is a wonderful thing! Mater would just say to go up to Harrods or rather send the housekeeper to Harrods!"

"I've never been there. What's it like?"

"Expensive, but you could buy everything under the sun if you want it" she said, recalling the too numerous time she had trailed around after her mother who regally walked the floors of the department store.

"Oh! You mentioning your mother, did you see your parcel?"

"I saw the Madeira post mark" Chummy replied, having seen the rather large cardboard box delivered earlier that morning. "I do suppose I ought to open it". It always set her nerves on edge when she saw an airmail letter from Madeira and the fact that a box had arrived with the same mark _and_ that it had taken two nurses to carry, set her nerves upon her even more.

Carefully between the two of them, they found the box and set it on the sitting room floor before Chummy carefully began to open it.

Underneath the protective paper she found layer upon layer of romper suits, cardigans, hats, socks, sunsuits, bootees; of all them of different colours and sizes, a silk edged blanket and tucked down the side of the box, a letter.

"Oh gosh!" she said, quite surprised. "That's Pa's handwriting".

Chummy opened the letter as Shelagh carefully sorted each garment, finding even more as she carried on – leather shoes, books, mittens and vests.

Chummy smiled. He always started his letters, rare though that they were, with 'My Dear Girl'".

"What does it say?" Shelagh asked having never actually heard Chummy's father having written to her before in all their time at Nonnatus.

"He hopes that I like everything he has sent as he had to have some help from Mater's housekeeper as to what little boys wore! He may be visiting in March and he would like a photograph of Fred for his desk".

"I can ask Patrick tomorrow if we can borrow his camera", Shelagh said enthusiastically.

"Everyone is well and oh! My brother is engaged!"

"Which one?"

"Teddy"

Shelagh had heard Chummy mention her brothers once in a while and knew that her youngest brother Edward was the only one that was still unwed. She also knew that Chummy and Edward were somewhat of each other's nemesis.

"Look at all of this!" Shelagh said with wonderment in her voice, holding up a small blue striped sunsuit, far too big for Freddie now but come Summer it would fit him a treat. Even though the box had taken two to carry it, it was deceptively small for what it actually contained.

"It is all lovely" Chummy replied. "One is not even sure whether one ought to accept it though. I would rather he just visited and held him".

"He is a grandfather sending presents to his grandson. If know your mother has been less than warm about Fred, but your father is clearly proud", she continued finding a red romper suit with a small bluebird sewn to its chest.

Chummy nodded. "Pa was always going to be different; always is different than her". She would speak to Peter about her reply to her father first though.

"Your parents are coming down soon aren't they?"

"Yes. I cannot wait to see them both. I have had a letter practically every day from Dadaidh this week, making sure I know what time the train is coming in!"

Chummy smiled, thinking how wonderful if must be to be so close to your parent.

"Did we settle on your something old?" Chummy asked, suddenly reminded of her father's part in finding the 'something blue'.

"No. Nobody seems to have come up with any bright ideas. Sister Julienne did say she had thought of something, but I have not had the chance to speak to her for any great length recently. I must ask her tomorrow and if not, we have to put our thinking caps on!"

Between the two of them with little words passing, they briefly examined the entire wardrobe that her son had been given.

"We must pack it away carefully again though" Chummy said when they had reached the bottom of the box. "It can all stay where it is for when we move".

"I feel so sad knowing you will not be here the night before the wedding" Shelagh said, folding a vest.

"We will be here at the crack of dawn on the day though" Chummy replied. "Besides you will be more caught up in getting to the Church. We will have to have one last fitting of your dress though, just to make sure".

Chummy was nervous of the dress, even though she had received countless compliments from the Nurses and Nuns at Nonnatus and a _"not bad at all" _from Fred, the bride would be the centre of attention and there would be questions asked and she just feared failing so. "Tomorrow morning?" Chummy asked.

Shelagh smiled, excitement bubbling at the prospect of wearing it again.

"Can we do it now?!"


	17. Chapter 17

It was a ridiculously cold night and between them Shelagh and Cynthia were desperately trying to keep the blood rushing through their veins as they cycled back from the successful delivery of Mrs Baker's twins. They knew in their hearts they should not been catapulting themselves along the Dock Road like this but it was quiet and there was not a soul in sight that they could see. They could feel rain in the air though so the swift return to Nonnatus was a most urgent mission. It did not help however that their erratic, carefree cycling was inducing red, exhausted faces and fits of quite undignified laughter.

One thing they did not see, however, were the two people ahead of them until it was all together too late and they were upon them as the two figures appeared shrouded against the night in the black of their capes.

They shot a glance to each other hoping that at least in the absence of Peter, one of the figures might at least be one of the Police Officers who would frequent Nonnatus and be a friend of his. The two officers stopped, turned and happily for the two nurses they were faces that they both recognised; first Peter and then Donald, who had been his best man.

"Why do I have the sense that you two were travelling rather fast?" Peter asked, trying to keep a straight face seeing how flushed the two midwives were, as both bicycles were turned around to face them.

"Sorry Peter….Constable Noakes" Cynthia stuttered. Even though she had no reason to feel terrible or guilty or any of those similar emotions in front of someone she could class as a friend, he was still a Police Officer and he still commanded respect.

"That's quite alright" he said. "Just be careful. I really do not want to have to be picking up Nurses off the cobbles anymore that I have already done".

All parties knew what the quip meant and the two nurses smiled at him.

"We will be" Shelagh replied as the two Police Officers let them pass, nodding their heads politely as they departed away. A more sedate ride back was then had even though the sky was becoming threatening above them.

Shelagh and Cynthia arrived at Nonnatus just as spots of rain were starting to mar the night and, having run up to the steps, depositing their coats and hats they decided tea was in order before restoring their bags to order in the treatment room to wait for the next call.

"I cannot believe Freddie's going tomorrow" Cynthia said, finding a pale green knitted cardigan hung on the back of one of the kitchen chairs as she sat down. Every so gently she laid it on the kitchen table, folding the tiny arms neatly.

"And his parents!" Shelagh reminded her, taking the kettle towards the sink.

"I know" Cynthia laughed, "but it's been so lovely having a baby here, even when those lungs are being exercised at dawn".

"I won't disagree with you there" Shelagh replied. Nobody bar Peter knew of the many night-time conversations she had been having with Chummy and how reassured she had now started to feel about being Mrs Turner.

"Did Jenny tell you Sister Julienne wanted to put a special lunch on for them before they go?" Shelagh asked as she continued to busy herself with the tea.

"Yes", she replied. "Jenny and I did all the shopping this afternoon".

"Well you know I will help if I can", Shelagh offered although Cynthia, for reasons that she would be keeping to herself for the moment, had no intention of asking.

"I will" she squeaked out in response, going back to tend to the cardigan, straightening buttons to make them just so.

The secret that was being kept so close to her chest was that on that list were provisions for second special event the day after tomorrow, the day before the wedding, where there would be another celebratory gathering for Shelagh to wish her well. Sister Julienne had instilled on them all that it was to be an absolute surprise and that Shelagh was not to have the barest inkling of the plot.

All of a sudden the telephone rang again.

"Not again!" Shelagh exclaimed, not being altogether careful if the loud thump of the kettle on the worktop was anything to go by; even though it was an accident.

"You finish that, I'll go" Cynthia offered, hoping that whoever was on the telephone would at least spare them a sip or two of tea before one of them had to leave again.


	18. Chapter 18

He stared, mesmerised as his mother turned a borrowed silver bauble from the Christmas tree in front of his eyes.

'How simple it is to amuse you' she thought wistfully. 'A Christmas decoration and you are happy'. A little hand tried to take a swipe at the bauble.

"No, no" she whispered. "It's glass. Mummy will hold it for now". She was just about to reach to replace the silver glass with blue when she heard footsteps behind her.

"We wondered where you went" Shelagh said, as she stood in the doorway to the sitting room with the trill of conversation and laughter behind her; hearing her father's Scottish lilt boom across the passageway.

"Sorry" Camilla replied. "He was getting overwhelmed by the attention".

"Well it's not every day you have a leaving party" Shelagh said, gently touching the baby's bootee clad feet as he excitedly kicked back at her, rewarding her with a smile.

"Yes, but there was no need for your Ma and Pa to bring those toys down for him", Chummy replied, although extremely grateful, quite astounded at being presented with a carefully knitted bear and three hand painted wooden ducks that he had been planed by Shelagh's father.

"There was every reason", Shelagh replied, not telling her friend that she had mentioned her to her parents.

"Is everybody alright?" Chummy asked as, strictly speaking, she was the hostess.

"Yes, they are all perfectly fine". A pair of altogether too bright blue eyes blinked her as Shelagh took both of the baby's hands and kissed them.

"He could do with a sleep to get over his excitement. I might take him for a walk in the garden for ten minutes", Chummy said, thankfully having found that a quick trip in the fresh air had a rather efficient soporific effect on her son.

"Could I come with you?"

"Of course".

They both turned to walk out of the dining room to see Sister Julienne walking towards them.

"The very people I wanted to talk to", she said. "Would you care to come with me?"

Shelagh and Chummy followed her dutifully away from the party, not quite knowing why they two had been singled out for attention. Instead of the garden, Chummy was to soothe her son to sleep in Sister Julienne's office as she sat side by side with Shelagh. The door clicked closed and Sister Julienne went to sit on the opposite side of the desk.

"I see two worried faces" Sister Julienne said, seeing the concern spread across the faces of the nurses in front of her.

"Sorry, Sister", they both replied, not quite knowing what they were apologising for but usually if you were sitting in Sister Julienne's office, contrition was the most appropriate policy to be adopted.

"I do not think I have anything too concerning to discuss with you both _but_ I do believe you are privy to some news that is yet to be announced publicly".

Chummy and Shelagh caught each other's eye, entirely useless at feigning innocence.

"It is quite all right", she paused. "I took a walk to St Johns this morning and your respective husbands where there. I am afraid they rather let the cat out of the bag. I intended to tell everybody in the New Year but with you both departing from Nonnatus early, I will make the announcement before you leave tonight Nurse Noakes".

"So it is definitely St Johns?" Chummy asked, feeling her son burrow further into her arms.

"Yes. We move officially and close our doors on 18th January and sadly the demolition of Nonnatus will start on 24th of the same month".

"24 days" Shelagh said quietly.

"Yes", Sister Julienne repeated. "Just 24".

Nobody quite knew what to say but the air of sadness was palpable in the small panelled room.

"Now," Sister Julienne said, "you seem to have been able to keep the news in confidence already so I would expect that to persist for at least a few more hours".

"Of course Sister", they both replied in unison.

"Although if you do wish to go this second to tell Constable Noakes and Dr Turner that they are appalling at keeping secrets in the interim, I will have no objections" she concluded with a smile.

Both girls smiled too, knowing that the confidentiality in both cases had only been breached by accident and there was no ill will in Sister Julienne's voice.

"For now though we will enjoy our celebration of new beginnings for you Nurse Noakes".

Chummy smiled. "Thank you, Sister".

Shelagh and Chummy went to stand up until Sister Julienne halted them.

"One moment" she said, as they turned to hear a desk drawer being opened. Shelagh had a small red leather box pressed into her hand. "If it has not already been arranged; something old".

"It hasn't Sister" she replied, having altogether given up on completing her 'old, borrowed, blue and new' ensemble. "Thank you".

Chummy took Fred into the garden after all, followed at her side by Shelagh. They sat, morose, on one of the benches. The baby was wrapped close to his mother' s chest, her thick woollen cardigan a temporary blanket, the only person seemingly at peace.

"All of this gone" Chummy said suddenly.

"The end", Shelagh echoed. "It's a waste. It makes me want to wring the necks of whoever thought up this silly plan!"

"Shelagh!" Chummy was quite surprised as she had never heard Shelagh be so, well, _ticked off_ before.

"Well it does. Knowing that date now it seems so real", she stopped. "It is all so very gloomy".

"I suppose we all have to move on someday" Chummy said, herself having spent somewhat of a nomadic childhood; the longest time having spent anywhere being her post at St Thomas'. "At least we are all moving on together".

"Yes" she replied. "I do feel we have to be grateful for that. It could have been so very much worse". The air felt heavy, depressed and neither was in the mood at that moment to re-join the party that was still in full swing inside, knowing the finality of the news to come. They had been saved, Nonnatus would live again in another guise, but the end of his era for these bricks and tiles was so desperately upsetting.

"What was in the box?" Chummy asked, remembering and trying to avoid any more of this wretched conversation.

Carefully Shelagh took the case from her pocket and gently opened the clasp to find a simple gold bracelet.

"Oh!" Shelagh said. "I remember Sister Julienne telling me about this years ago. It is one of the few things she has of her mother's. I must thank her properly!"

"She has been so very kind to us both. Letting us stay here, letting us both come back to work. Well, not quite yet, but in the future".

"She has" Shelagh replied. "So has been so very good to us".


	19. Chapter 19

"Tea or Gin?" he asked, head peering around the living room door to his wife who was sitting by the fire nursing their son, surrounding by the very few boxes they still needed to unpack.

"Surprise me!" she laughed, moving her arm slightly as it was starting to ache at being pinned in one position.

"Tea for now; Gin for when he is in bed" he replied, disappearing again as she heard the kettle start to boil.

As the kettle went about its business, Peter knelt down beside them both, seeing his son's eyes entirely and unerringly fixated on his mother.

"Just think" he said, taking hold of the small hand that was draped across his son's body , "from this day forward, no telephones ringing in the middle of the night, no having to dodge Nuns in my pyjamas. Heaven!"

Chummy smiled, leaning sideways to kiss him, thoroughly relieved herself that they could have a conversation now that was not in hushed tones, that every squeak out of the baby was not met with a disparaging look from Sister Evangelina and that if he wanted to give her a kiss that he did not have to check over his shoulder first.

"Has anything more been said about St Johns?" he asked as he watched tiny fingers tightened their hold on him.

"Not really. One does suppose you not being able to keep that trap of yours closed has assisted me a fair amount to digest it", she said, even though she was smiling as she said it.

"St Johns is looking rather special you know. I went there again today".

"Yes and Sister Julienne told me to tell you off for baring all" she scolded as he looked suitably remorseful for a moment. "But I shan't" she carried on.

"How was Shelagh's tea?" he asked, hearing the familiar snuffling of his son slowing down as he began to fall asleep.

"Wonderful, funny, joyful and quite sad in all equal degree," she replied, remembering the stories, the laughter and the good measure of tears that had been shed by all concerned, knowing it was the last time they would have this opportunity to sit around a table together under the old roof. "By the time they come back from honeymoon, it will only be 4 days before we move again".

He gently separated his hand from his son and instead picked up her hand, kissing the back of it affectionately.

"It will be alright, Camilla" he said as she nodded. "Its change, but the reason you are all there is more than just bricks".

"Yes, yes, I know" she said, knowing he was, underneath it all, quite right. "But those bricks hold so much life, Peter. It's a waste".

"You will feel better when you see St Johns" he replied, as she nodded in a 'probably' response.

"Do you have to read tonight?" she asked. As much as she did genuinely enjoy helping him with everything that had been going on these past few days, whether it be Nonnatus or the wedding, the last thing that she felt like doing tonight was learning about termination of tenancies on patches of land.

"No", he replied. "I was on the custody desk this afternoon and it was quiet, so I did some there and it's been a long day today, so no".

"Good", she replied, "because as soon as he is in bed, we are going to sit on that settee and put the radio on and you are going to get me that gin".

The kettle whistled in the background and he got up with a smile, leaving them for a moment as she turned her attention back to her son.

A minute later, as he poured milk into the mugs, she appeared behind him.

"Kiss your son goodnight" she announced as he turned to find Freddie perfectly flaked out in his mothers arms.

Dutifully he did so and whilst he heard her settling him into his cot in their bedroom, he plucked the gin bottle from the shelf.

When she returned to him she noticed the increasingly dog-eared knitted bunny rabbit that had been one of the many presents Fred had received sitting next to her husband on the settee.

"Where did you find him? I've been looking all over the place".

"Under the settee", he replied passing her the toy so she could sit next to him. "Well, I found it under the settee after I managed to kick it half way across the sitting room", he said smiling.

"I'll give it to him later. He's so far in the Land of Nod he will never notice".

She received a glass to her hand. "Thank you" she replied, taking a sip. She noticed he had also poured himself a glass of Whiskey, the same brand she had bought him all those years ago that he had stuck to religiously since. He had also put the radio on.

"Did you open the card?" he asked as she settled next to him. It was a card that had been given to him yesterday by Shelagh's father to pass to his wife and he had done so at the earliest opportunity.

"Yes", she replied. "It was to say thank you for helping Shelagh. She must have said something to him about the dress".

"Or your conversations" he offered. "I somehow think that they may have been more reassuring that scraps of material".

"Important scraps" she replied, taking another sip of gin before passing him her glass so he could place it on the side table.

"But you could have the nicest, most expensive clothes in the world and still be petrified of putting one foot in front of the other".

The comment stunned her into silence for a moment and she sat up.

"What?" he said, suddenly conscious of the look on her face. "Are you alright?" he asked, a hand arriving on her arm, thinking she could be in pain.

"I just remembered why I married you", she said quietly as she saw him smile.

"So it wasn't for my dashing good looks or wonderfully enticing conversation? " he said, lunging into her neck before she could answer, feeling her arm throw itself around his shoulder so she would not topple backwards completely.

"Stop it you halfwit!"she laughed, regaining her balance, arm still around his shoulder as she righted herself.

"You talk sense", she paused resting her palm on his chest. "I need someone to talk sense to me sometimes".

He smiled and kissed her before sitting back, holding an arm out for her so she could slide close to him.

"What time do we have to get to Nonnatus tomorrow?" he asked.

"Just before Eight", she replied.

"Eight?" he replied. "Its not until 12".

"We do have to make sure Shelagh is ready", she replied, wondering if four hours might actually be enough. Then again, she thought to herself, the rest of the girls would be up at dawn if needs be.

"I think once I am dressed I am going to stay out of the way", he said with a note of resignation.

"Well Laurie is going to be there, and Fred, and if you could take the baby...?"

"I will", he replied, as she felt his lips touch her temple.

"Thank you" she replied, settling as close to him as she could, hand resting on his stomach.

"No need to thank me, you know I will always look after him".

_"Always"._


	20. Chapter 20

"Trixie! Trixie!" Shelagh whispered trying to keep her voice as low as possible, hoping so not to reveal herself too much as her head popped around the bedroom door. She was wrapped in a dressing gown and her hair sufficiently damp that it would be unseemly to be wandering around the corridors of Nonnatus in search of her helper.

"Trixie! Where are you?" she asked again looking from side to side down the narrow passageway.

"I'm here!" came a voice from the opposite direction as Shelagh turned to find Trixie walking towards her, her arms laden with sponge hair rollers and a hairdryer.

"Is Chummy here yet?" Shelagh asked, trying to look past her.

"No. It's not eight yet and she said she would be here then. She's on Fred's clock remember!"

"Yes, I know" she replied, increasingly nervous that the one person she wanted to help her dress was not arrived.

"Besides we need to do your hair and make-up long before that dress even goes near you" Trixie said, turning Shelagh bodily away from the door guiding her with a friendly push to the seat by the dressing table. "Come along, sit down and be quiet!"

Shelagh sat, suitably admonished, breathed heavily and smiled at Trixie who had lent down to plug in the hairdryer. She took one of the pink rollers and absently passed it from hand to hand whilst she waited for Trixie to be ready.

Her sleep had been sporadic to say the least, waking almost on the hour every hour as dawn approached. She had crept downstairs twice, once under the pretence that she was thirsty and the second to see if there was anyone she could have a conversation with to pass some time.

She had sat, alone, in the kitchen nursing a cup of tea what must have been approaching three o'clock in the morning pondering her lot; eyes wandering intently over the tired décor, the plates and dishes, the well-worn parquet floor and the silent ephemera of life at Nonnatus around her that normally she paid little attention to. She turned her head, studying the row of boxes and tins on the shelf and wondered where all of the spirits under this roof would go when the wrecking ball descended. One day she would walk past here, as Mrs Turner, perhaps with Timothy or a child of her own, and tell them how she used to live in this space.

All of these memories she had collected, tucked away in her mind, the sounds she had heard assaulted her at the thought of losing this place, a roof that had given her so much comfort, so much help and so much joy.

She was happy at what awaited her as the local doctor's wife. Increasingly these past weeks she had become, now how would she describe it? Perhaps 'accustomed' might be the appropriate word, at least for the time being. She had no idea what to expect and although she knew she loved him, her heart skipping at his smile, desperately wanting to just brush away the hair that flopped over his face as he tended to a patient, but knowing she had to refrain. Just his company was something she craved, even long before the dawning of their engagement and now she would have it.

She continued to think as she watched Trixie carefully dry and curl her hair seeing this other person, _this bride_, emerge from her chrysalis.

To their right, as the last curler was placed, they heard footsteps that brought her swiftly back to the present day.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry," she heard as Chummy arrived in a whirlwind in the room. "Minor incident. Trapped finger whilst putting down his cot side".

"What? Is he okay?" Shelagh asked, turning away from Trixie, immediately worried for the little fellow.

"Not him. Thankfully, no. Me" she said holding up her hand to reveal a bruise on the tip of her thumb. "My fault as ever! As the Ayah always used to say 'must pay more attention'!"

"It looks sore" Trixie said, talking her friend's hand.

"It is" she replied, taking her hand away with more issues than a bruised finger on her mind.

"Is Fred here?" Shelagh asked.

"Which one?" Trixie quipped, rolling the wire from the hairdryer away.

"Well I shan't be wanting to cuddle Fred Senior for luck"

"Sister Julienne has him downstairs" Chummy replied, taking off her coat, quickly checking that the tailor's dummy, complete with dress, was still in the corner where she had carefully moved it last night.

"Can you get him quickly before I get dressed?"

To prevent sight of the bride before her time Chummy had a staircase rendezvous with Sister Julienne to hand over the precious package like some form of smuggled cargo. By the time Chummy returned to the room, Trixie had disappeared finding Shelagh sitting on the bed, poring over a copy of the Order of Service that had found its way upstairs.

"There you go!" Chummy said. "Budai - a tum to rub for Good Luck!"

Shelagh smiled as the wide eyed and very awake boy was placed in her arms.

"How are you feeling?" she was asked.

"Apprehensive", she said, before pausing. "But I suppose that is natural. It would be odd not to be".

Chummy nodded, as she brushed a wayward lock of hair of from her son's head.

"I do suppose I have very much to learn these next few weeks" Shelagh mused.

"Months", Chummy said quickly. "I'm still learning about Peter and I am I sure he still is about me. It still surprises me how neat he is".

"Patrick's office at the back of the surgery is a sight to behold. It takes all my strength not to go in there and just set to work on it", she said, tickling the baby's feet.

"He picks up after me, after the baby. At least for as much time as I spend ironing his shirts and cleaning I suppose its a fair exchange..." she said with a shrug.

"Can we swop?" Shelagh asked with a smile, feeling the baby wriggle and hearing him squeal at her. "I cannot bear untidyness".

"I think that was a no from him ", Chummy replied good-naturedly before they heard a knock on the door.

"Everybody decent?" came a voice before the door opened announcing the arrival of Trixie again followed by Jenny, bearing a make up bag and the jewellery that Shelagh would wear.

"Of course we are!" Shelagh replied, as Jenny said 'hello' to Chummy and the baby.

"Now", Trixie said, taking the make up bag from Jenny. "Let's set about part two!"


	21. Chapter 21

"Sister?" Cynthia asked, seeing the elderly Nun poring over a box that had clearly freshly been delivered. She knew it was the flowers and the button holes for Peter, Fred and Laurie.

"Sister Monica Joan?" she asked again, placing a hand gently on her arm.

"Sorry my dear" she replied, placing one of the button holes back down in the box. "Seeing these here, I have to admit I was somewhat reminiscing".

"About?"

"My dear brother's weddings. Such affairs, they were" the Sister said as she smiled. "Father made sure that they were the talk of the town".

"I can imagine" Cynthia replied. She knew little of Sister Monica Joan's history, the youngest daughter of several siblings, later failed so by a family who could or would not support her vocation. She knew however, that her father was titled and there had been money to spare so she could more than envisage the show that would be put on.

"When Percy married, I was a bridesmaid, although I have to say - the dress! Such a disaster! Mother was entirely convinced the dressmaker had some form of impediment".

Cynthia laughed.

"I do say that we have fared so much better this time around".

"We have", Cynthia replied, thinking one day if she ever married, she would perhaps employ Chummy as her seamstress too. Carefully she took the three button holes from the box as Sister Monica Joan sat down.

"Is the boy coming to the wedding?"

"The boy?" Cynthia replied, perhaps thinking the Sister had meant Timothy, who in the past few days had spent increasingly more time at Nonnatus.

"Yes, the little one. My niece's little one".

Cynthia was forced to think for a moment. Sister Monica Joan had mentioned family in the past, but as far as anybody knew, there was nobody from wider families coming to the wedding.

"It does frustrate me so my dear when something as simple as a name fails to pass these lips" she replied, seeing Cynthia's frown.

"Which little boy, Sister?" Cynthia asked trying to be encouraging.

"The little boy upstairs".

"Up?" Cynthia whispered to herself, desperately searching in her mind for this child.

"Yes. The little chap who would wear all those multi-coloured cardigans. He would smile at me when he used to sit on my knee".

"You mean Freddie?" she asked, thinking he could be the only boy in the neighbourhood with quite the array of handknits that each and every Nun and Nurse had crafted for him as well some very devoted Noakes aunties. "But he's not your niece's baby, Sister. He's Chummy's".

"Yes, my niece and her husband; they have stayed here for so long these past months and it has warmed my heart so that they should visit for such a time. When they come to stay they bring the child to me and we talk for hours in our own little way".

Cynthia hesitated in her sadness at the absolute lucidity shown by the Sister, now descending into confusion once more.

Chummy had been careful of Fred around Sister Monica Joan. As much as she would freely admit to adoring the Sister, she had taken to wandering even more these past few weeks and she had been wary of leaving her alone with him on the chance he went with her on one of her 'little journies' as Sister Julienne was now calling them. The thought of not knowing where he was for one second petrified her more than anything else in the world and if it meant that she had to sit with the Sister as she cooed over Fred, then she would do it.

They had all learned, however, as time had passed that humouring Sister Monica Joan in these moments was the best course of action.

"Yes", Cynthia said. "They will here". It was not a lie after all as it had been Shelagh's explicit instructions that the baby should be there, even if he screamed the church down.

"Oh how wonderful!" she replied. "Now if you would excuse me, I must tell mother. She will be overjoyed".

Cynthia let Sister Monica Joan walk away, heart dropping at the decline that was so visible to all at Nonnatus.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw said baby fresh from his 'Good Luck' giving, with his father, walking across into the kitchen. Immediately, she saw Sister Evangelina barrelling into the room behind him.

With the look on Sister Evangelina's face she decided that her best policy was to run up those stairs to see if she could help or hinder the bride.

"Now Constable!" Sister Evangelina announced seeing him put his hand on a tin of powdered milk seated on the shelf. "If you intend to feed that baby now, I would suggest that you do so without your jacket on. I doubt very much it will sit well on the photographs with an usher with a trail of vomit all over his shoulder!"

He was about to say that for one thing Freddie enjoyed his food that much that trips to the sink to wipe his Uniform had been few and far between. For all of it as well it had occurred to him to take off his jacket on the off chance that this would be one of those days, but the look she was giving him stunned him into silence.

"Either that or give that lovely little face to me and I will do it!"

The fact that Sister Evangelina's hands were expectant gave him little choice. He quite enjoyed these odd moments when Camilla would let him bottle feed the baby and he could sit and have a quiet man to man, usually in the middle of the night when he would tell her to sleep and she would be too tired to object. Reluctantly he handed the child and the empty bottle over. Sister Evangelina confused him.

"Now" she announced. "I would suggest that you make your way to the Church and before you go, speak to your wife before she has a coronary over the bride!"

As he knocked on the door, managing to sneak upstairs without being told off, all he could hear was cursing and entirely unladylike language permeating through the wall. Most of it was his wife and it amused him greatly.

The door opened with a whoosh as both Trixie and Cynthia stood in front of him blocking his view into the room.

"Yes?!" Trixie asked, not intending to sound quite so haughty with it.

"I erm.." he paused, his voice failing him. "Could I speak to Camilla?"

"No" Trixie replied firmly as Cynthia shook her head. "She is otherwise engaged. Although you can be assured we will pass on any messages".

He decided a message was probably the best policy, both girls standing there, arms folded across their chests.

"Could you tell her that Sister Evangelina has Fred and Laurie and I are going to walk down to the Church now?"

"Chummy? Did you hear that?" Trixie said, leaning back into the room.

"I did", he heard from somewhere in the room.

"There you go, message delivered" she replied.

"Right" he said, feeling decidedly awkward.

"See you at the church!" Trixie sang; which he took in other words as 'go away'.

"Right", he repeated, quickly remembering how very glad he was that he did not live here any longer.

He took one step and paused, before turning back.

"By the way," he said, giving a dramatic pause for effect, even though he had only seen her reflection in the mirror and loud enough to make sure that all occupants of the room heard. "Tell the bride she looks wonderful".

All he heard from the room was his wife's exasperated comment. _"You pair are the most unpardonable excuse for guards!" _

As he walked away down to the corridor smiling quietly to himself, Shelagh's laughter rang in his ears.


	22. Chapter 22

Timothy ran downstairs at some speed to answer the door, pushing aside the net curtain seeing Peter and Laurie standing in front of the house.

"Dad! Its Constable Noakes and Dr Pritchard!" he shouted up the stairs, readily recognising the Police Officer and knowing the other was his father's former partner that he remembered from years gone past.

"Well, let them in!" he heard as his father's voice boomed down the stairs with that slight tone of exasperation that he had become acquainted with these past few weeks as the pressure of organising his patients had built slowly up. Timothy had taken to spending as much time with Shelagh at Nonnatus as he could as he would inevitably come home after school to an empty house. He knew his Dad tried desperately but he was a busy and committed man. Timothy was quite looking forward to when Shelagh moved in.

Downstairs, as he stood in front of the mirror, Patrick heard the door latch open and the sounds of feet across the carpet and pleasantries were exchanged between his son and friends, albeit that Peter and Laurie were unexpected.

Brushing invisible flecks off his suit deciding that he was as ready as he could be, Patrick bounded down the stairs to Peter and Laurie who were being entertained by one of Timothy's stories from the Wolf Pack and Peter particularly being bombarded with questions as to when Akela would be well enough to come back as they all missed her.

"Timothy go and comb your hair" Patrick announced as he arrived in the room.

"It's been combed!" the boy replied, having thoroughly enjoyed the animated chat the three of them had had and having completed the Very Important Task of making sure Peter would deliver a particular envelope back to Nonnatus for him.

"Well comb it again!" his father announced. Timothy took this as a sign that he wanted him out of the way and with heavy shoulders, trotted upstairs to his bedroom, deciding to stay there until he was called back down to say they were ready to leave.

"Dr Pritchard!" Patrick announced, stretching out a hand to receive a sturdy greeting in response. "So no signs then, Doctor?"

"Of a lady wife?" Laurie replied in Glaswegian drawl. "Not if I have anything to do with it. The half an hour I spent at Nonnatus this morning amongst all those women has scarred me".

Peter smiled ironically knowing the feeling of several weeks of it as Patrick stretched his hand to him.

"So how is my patient?" he asked.

"Not taking it easy!" Peter replied. The last sight he had had of his wife that morning was her practically flying up the stairs with a needle and cotton and a determined look.

"And you expected her to?" he replied with a smile. "Dr Pritchard here", he said nodding his head to his friend, "is under strict instruction that he has to take special exception to Nurse Noakes and I expect a full report on his suitability when I return".

For a moment Peter looked confused.

"We are considering a certain business venture. The surgery of Drs Turner and Pritchard has somewhat of a ring don't you think?" Patrick said, walking across the room to the drinks cabinet.

"If I decide that I want to go into practice with you again, Turner! I might decide that a few weeks as your locum is enough for me".

"We will see about that", he replied, his back to both guests who had now resumed their places on the settee.

"Well, it might be not quite quarter to eleven on a Tuesday morning, but…." Patrick said, absently waiving a glass and unscrewing a bottle.

Peter and Laurie were handed glasses of Whiskey, even though they knew it wold have been a lightening quick toast as they had duties to perform to corral the guests into the church. Patrick raised his glass.

"To the future!"

"To the future!" they both replied.

In quick time, the two departed with more handshakes and an envelope folded carefully in Peter's pocket.

Back at Nonnatus, Shelagh stood in the middle of her bedroom, back to the mirror, dressed; hair and make up as perfect as Trixie could create and with her heart fluttering in her chest with nothing but excitement.

"And now for the finishing touch!" Jenny announced with a smile, carefully handing Chummy the veil that would adorn the bride.

Gently, with the help of Trixie, Chummy pinned the veil in place, careful not to knock the sapphire hairpin that had been secretly added whilst the other girls were out of the room.

Cynthia, who had been entertaining Fred as he sat leaning against her chest taking in the sounds around him, offering the occasional smile and mimic when Cynthia had turned him around and stuck her tongue out at him.

"You look beautiful!" she said.

"Do I really?" Shelagh replied and each and every girl lined up in front of her nodded wholeheartedly, smiling with pride and joy at the sight in front of her. She had not dared to look in the mirror quite yet.

"You do", Chummy said, standing back, although still fretting in her own way at how the dress would be received.

Each girl resisted a hug for fear of crushing the silk or knocking the veil away from her as they stood and admired. Downstairs they heard the door bell ring, knowing by the time it would be Shelagh's father and the car to collect her.

As Jenny and Trixie ran to get their coats Chummy took Fred from Cynthia so she could leave too, hoping the epic feed he had had at 6 o'clock this morning and the bottle he had drained dry for Sister Evangelina just over an hour ago would last him until at least the end of the ceremony when she could slip away. For now however he seemed perfectly happy in a roomful of women, even though he now smelt vaguely of hairspray and perfume.

The girls ran to collect their coats, leaving Shelagh and Chummy, before they commenced the meticulous and careful trip down the stairs to where they knew Shelagh would pick up her flowers and be greeted by the Nuns.

With the baby in one arm Chummy, gently settled the veil down, covering Shelagh's face.

"Your dad is downstairs and the car is here too" she said. "Shall I send him up?"

"Yes," she replied, smiling. "Please".

Chummy smiled in response.

"Good Luck", she said, taking Shelagh's hands before she departed too.

For the last time, when she was sure that the door had been closed tight, Shelagh turned around to the mirror, carefully rearranging her dress before looking up.

She stood and stared at herself, not quite knowing what to make of this figure before her, still not fully comprehending the enormous extent to how her life had now changed. She would be the local doctors wife, Timothy's step-mother, maybe a mother and grandmother herself one day. 'All of these things' she thought, if it were not for the torment of her illness and Patrick and Sister Julienne's unerring support, the future that was starting to peek its head above the parapet would never have been. All these things that she though God had wanted her to bypass in her devotion to him were now there waiting to happen to her.

She rested her hands in front of herself and closed her eyes, breathing evenly as a silent prayer ascended itself to the heavens in thanks for her life and her future before she heard footsteps outside the door again.


	23. Chapter 23

The job of suitable and careful division of the guests had been done and the Sisters installed, Peter and Laurie stood on the steps of the Church taking in the winter afternoon as the bubble of noise and anticipation bobbed around the pews behind them. It was icy cold and both could feel snow in the air about to descend.

From over the road they saw Jenny, Cynthia and Trixie arm in arm and a few paces behind them Jane with Chummy, who had Fred in her arms wrapped in several layers against the chill as his mother pointed out a passing cat to an entirely uninterested child.

"I think we have just about everybody, do you not think?" Laurie asked.

"Apart from the stragglers", Peter said loud enough for all the girls to hear, to which he received several good-natured smiles at his teasing.

"Bride or groom?" Laurie asked as they approached the steps, as out of the corner of his eye he saw Chummy step over to Peter and Freddie was passed from Mum to Dad.

"Bride" they all chimed in response.

"To the left if you would care to ladies; take yourselves directly to the front" Laurie responded, bowing dramatically, an act that between them the nurses decided silently would make Dr Laurie Pritchard a very welcome man in Poplar even if the days he was spending here were now rapidly dwindling away.

"You go in" he said to Peter and Chummy. "I dare say I can manage any others that decide to make a last minute entrance!" It was directed straight at the nurses deliberately, even though it was entirely in jest as he was left on the steps.

"Camilla?" Peter whispered as they sat down, the baby settled on his chest, having taken up a pew at the back should Freddie decide that weddings did not amuse him and one or both could slip away with him. Chummy had gently stripped him of one of his blanket layers and had folded it neatly on her knee.

"Hmm?" she replied, nosing over people's heads, trying to see if she could see Patrick's aunt Margaret who judging by Timothy's varied accounts, was formidable to say the least and would perhaps be taking up a pew of her own. In front of them she saw Patrick and Timothy standing at the front of the pews, exchanging smiles and greetings with various members of his family and friends, seeing a garish cerise feather hat that could well have been his aunt.

"The baby smells of the same hairspray you use", he commented, the perfume assaulting him as soon as his son was handed to him.

"I know", she whispered in response, turning back to him seeing her son and taken a rather desperate grip of the carnation button hole placed carefully on Peter's suit. "I thought the walk from Nonnatus might have given him a bit of an airing. I was wrong".

"I'm not complaining" he replied, taking Timothy's letter from his pocket to pass to his wife. Quickly she glanced at it to see the vast number of messages in scrawled childish misspelt writing of her Wolf Pack wishing her well. She very nearly let a tear or two fall but suppressed them, remembering to invite herself to the last rehearsal for Bagheera's concert that he had meticulously planned for the New Year.

Peter was about to say something else when the organ above their heads blared into life, heralding the arrival of the bride as the baby flinched in surprise at the sudden noise and let go of the carnation. Thankfully, the slight whimper did not lead to a swift exit from the church with a bawling child.

The entire congregation stood and turned to their collective side to find Shelagh and her smiling father standing quietly in the doorway before she exchanged a reassuring glance with him as she took a first tentative step into the bounds of the church.

Quickly Chummy, who had slipped her hand into her husband's elbow, turned to look up the aisle to see Patrick turn around and yes, he _was_ wearing the self-same smile that she had seen on Peter at the sight of his bride.

_She had been confident that he would, and he did._

FIN

So this is the final chapter folks! Thank you to everyone who has followed and reviewed and PM'd. It has been encouraging me so much that you all enjoyed it. Now onto the next one ;)


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